Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment) (13 page)

It wasn’t fair. Ever since her mother left them when Riley had been five, she’d been the one to keep the family afloat with little to no help from her father. On the off chance that he did get a job, he got fired or laid off. In that one year alone, he’d been fired eight times and laid off twice. She really couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t take how little he cared. He hadn’t even put up a fuss when she dropped out of college after only a year of attending so she could get a job and help manage the bills. She wasn’t merely contributing, she was singlehandedly keeping an apartment she couldn’t afford and a grown man who just didn’t care. What hurt the most was the fact that he knew how hard she’d worked to earn a fully paid scholarship and how badly she had wanted to go. He had known, yet he hadn’t cared. He hadn’t thanked her or apologized or even pretended like it was a bad idea. He had nodded simply like it had made perfect sense. She couldn’t believe how selfish, he was being. Hadn’t she given up enough for them? She never made any friends because friends would want to know why she couldn’t hang with them at the mall or go to movies or why you could never offer them anything more than water when they visited. It had always been easier to keep people at a distance rather than let them know just how poor they were. Even Stan who she dated for almost four months was never allowed to her house and when he began to push her, she left him. But she never once complained. Never once told him to get his act together and be the parent for once. She never could because, in her mind, her mother was to blame for everything. She walked out on her daughter and husband knowing he couldn’t possibly raise a child on his own. She had known what he was like, yet she left. Why would she leave? Why couldn’t she have taken Riley with her?

No, no! Don’t cry!
But she could feel the building sting behind her eyes, the escalation of her heart rate and the liquefaction of her nose as it began to run. She quickly inhaled, exhaled, willing herself to calm down and focus. She had work in ten minutes and that’s what she needed to do.

Taking a deep breath, she moved away from the door and hurried to the vanity. She checked her face, relieved that there were no telltale signs of her near emotional breakdown. The sleeves of her green blouse were just long enough to conceal the gauze wraps keeping the burn ointment in place over the injuries on her arm. She slipped her feet into flats, grabbed her jacket and left the apartment without a single word to her father.

It was reasonably warm out with just a hint of a moist breeze. The world smelled of damp earth, clean and fresh. Riley breathed it all in deeply and wished she had more time to enjoy it. It could be the last warm weather they had before winter. But all too soon, she arrived at Final Judgment and she was walked into a tangible wall of torture.

The powerful aroma of fried meat and vegetable soup slammed square into her gut like an iron fist. Her empty gut moaned, knotting so excruciatingly tight, she nearly doubled over with the pain as every muscle in her body began to quiver with weakness. She reached for the nearest chair to steady the tremble in her knees and swallow the flood of saliva pooling in her mouth. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

“Hello Riley!”

Riley jolted, eyelids flying open. Her gaze shot to the only occupied table in the room where Kyaerin and Liam sat with a stack of papers spread out in front of them. Standing just behind his mother with his arms folded and looking larger than life, was Octavian. His narrowed gray eyes were trained on Riley’s face with something akin to concern. They roamed over her, touching her from head to toe before fixating on her face once more.

Riley quickly averted her eyes before he could see the truth and turned her attention to something safe, like Kyaerin, and smiled. “Hello!”

“I hear you guys have been having an uneventful week,” Liam chimed, setting down his pen.

Riley chuckled. “Yeah, it’s been pretty dead.”

Liam shook his head. “That always happens when it rains, something British Columbia is famous for. But it’s a clear night, so maybe we’ll make up for it.”

“How are you feeling?” Kyaerin asked, head tilting to the side, remind Riley of a baby bird.

Riley shrugged. “I feel great.” An exaggeration, but how were they to know? She cleared her throat. “I should get ready.”

No one stopped her when she turned and hurried to the kitchen and away from their watchful eyes. She darted through the doors, holding her breath until she was tucked away safely in the staff room. She hurriedly shrugged out of her coat, stuffed it into her locker and braved the long journey through the kitchen back to the dining area.

Gorje said nothing to her as she darted past him. Even when she waved at him, he stared back at her warily, as though she were a fox in the chicken coop and he did not trust her. He had no idea how right he was. Just walking through the wall of delicious smells was enough to have her lunging at the woodstove. Hot or not, she was hungry enough to scoop stew out with her bare hands.

She ducked out of the kitchen and exhaled loudly. The temptation was still there, but not as strong.

“What is it?” Octavian stood just on the other side, literally a foot away, hip propped against the counter as he stood facing the kitchen doors. He had his arms folded over his chest, a stance he preferred, she noted. “Something’s wrong.” It wasn’t a question, but an accusing fact.

Tactfully avoiding his searching gaze, she fussed with her apron. “I’m fine,” she lied, untying and retying the straps. “I can fill the condiments unless you need something else done?”

He took a great deal of time before responding and even then, it was only the mute shake of his head. But she could feel his eyes on her, could feel them worming into her soul in search of the truth.

Panicked at the thought, Riley ducked her head and scampered away to gather the salt and pepper shakers from the tables. She brought them to the front counter, a safe distance from where Octavian stood counting the odd pieces of metal money from the register. She reached beneath the counter, searching for the salt box they kept there and frowned.

“Are we out of salt?” she asked, crouching down to see into the back. She pushed aside the boxes of napkins and stirring straws. No salt.

“There should be more in the storage room,” Octavian replied, glancing up.

Of course there was. It made sense that the thing she needed most would be in the one place she felt the least bit comfortable visiting.

Unconsciously, her hand touched the bandage around her right arm. The burn underneath throbbed at the contact, reminding her how much it hated being touched. Not for the first time, she wondered if it was normal that the injuries hadn’t scabbed over yet. Wasn’t that the first thing it was supposed to do after a few days? The marks looked and felt as fresh as they had the night she’d received them two weeks ago.

“Riley?” Octavian had stopped counting and was watching her.

She jolted, shaking her head. “I’m okay. I just…” She rose to her feet, dropping her arm back to her side. “I zoned. Sorry.” Giving him a sheepish grin, she moved to the swinging door.

He didn’t stop her, much to her relief. She made it all the way into the kitchen and to the storage room before exhaling the breath she’d been holding. Her clammy palms shook as she reached for the doorknob. The brass knob felt like a chunk of ice as her fingers wrapped around it. Her gut rolled uneasily as the door gave easily in her grasp.

It’s just a room!
She told herself as she reached through the dark opening for the light switch on the inside. Her fingers fumbled before locating the switch and filling the room with the dim glow.

Nothing but cans, boxes and cases of beer greeted her. No sinister monster lurked beyond the threshold, waiting for another chance at her. She really was losing her mind. So she fainted. Big deal. The room had nothing to do with the fact that she didn’t eat enough, which was clearly the reason.

Failing to reassure herself, Riley wiped her hands on her slacks before passing through the opening and going in search of the salt.

It was unclear how many boxes she moved or how many she opened, but she must have been gone a while because the next moment, Octavian appeared in the doorway, confusion darkening his furrowed brow.

“Riley?”

Grunting in effort as she tried to heave a box full of tomato cans, Riley called, “Here!”

He crossed the space to stand behind her. “I can see that. What are you doing?”

She gave the box another shove, prepared to kick it next if it didn’t move. “Trying to get this stupid box out of the way!”

Octavian cleared his throat. She couldn’t see it, but she had a suspicion that he was smothering a chuckle. “Here. Let me.”

With an exasperated huff, Riley stepped aside, giving him room to take her place. He didn’t lift the box as she expected him to. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and surveyed the stack with interest.

“What are you looking for?”

Annoyed that he’d forgotten, especially after all the trouble she’d gone through, she replied sharply, “The salt.”

He turned to her. “This isn’t the salt.” He lifted a can of tomatoes from the box and held it up as though to prove it.

Riley, barely suppressing the urge to snatch it from him and pitch it at his head, gritted her teeth. “Yeah, I got that, but the box under—”

“Is beans, then corn and finally broth.” He pointed to each box until he got to the bottom.

Riley gaped. “How do you know that?”

He arched an eyebrow, dropping the can back into the box. “I’ve been at this a very long time. Look.” He faced the boxes and pointed at the labels. “Barley’s Co. is where we get our cans shipped from.” He moved a bit further to the right. “Greenway is where we get our napkins, paper cups and straws. Salt,” he said, darting his gaze over the rows, “is right…” He turned, still searching. “There!” He stabbed a finger at a box high up on a row of other boxes.

There was no way she’d have been able to bring that down. She would have needed a ladder or a crane. But Octavian had no problem reaching up and plucking the box down as though it were filled with feathers. Riley tried not to feel a flutter of girly awe at how the muscles on his arms bunched and moved with his graceful motion. She dampened her lips and took a shuffling step back as he brought the box to her and set it down on the box of tomato cans. Her gaze followed the long, blunt curves of his fingers and the scars that marred his large, capable hands. This was a man that liked using his hands. He could be forceful and demanding, or gentle and caring as the mood suited him. Something in that thought sent a shiver along Riley’s spine and gave a kick to the pit of her stomach. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound as he broke the seal on the box with a single powerful jerk. Her cheeks flamed as images of every cheesy romance novel she’d ever read flashed before her mind’s eye, images of those hands curling into the material of her shirt and yanking her forward with just as much force into the hard wall of his chest and holding her there as his mouth…

“Riley?”

Riley jumped. “I didn’t…!” She blinked, baffled by the white box he was holding out to her. “What?”

“Salt?” He waved it towards her. “You needed it, didn’t you?”

“Needed?” she mumbled stupidly, mind still fogged with thoughts of him shoving her up against the tower of boxes and kissing her senseless. She fought to resurface, but it was hard to do when he was watching her with a look that did nothing to hinder the fantasy.

“Riley…” Shadows danced over his features, not enough to conceal the warning in his eyes as he drank her in, but enough to caress every inch of her with fiery tongues. “Take it.”

She knew he meant the salt box. He had to, because no way was he telling her to take the risk and jump him. No way was she that lucky. So she reached for it, only to have his arm drop back to his side, taking the salt with it. His weight shifted even as her gaze shot to his face and he invaded the two steps separating them. Her breath caught, and then sped up as her heart raced in her chest. She took a clumsy step back, coming up against a stack of boxes.

Trapped!
Panic and excitement bolted through her as he came even closer.

“What are you thinking, Riley?” His quiet voice rang with dark humor, like he knew exactly what she was thinking, but wanted to torture her into saying it out loud.

“I wasn’t…” She dampened her lips nervously. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

For several long moments, he didn’t respond, seemingly too mesmerized by her mouth to realize she’d spoken. Then, taking his time, he let his gaze wander upward until it was locked with hers. His head tipped to the side.