by Devney Perry
“They didn’t mind, Pres,” Isaiah said.
“This is my fault. I should deal with it.”
“This is Jeremiah’s fault.”
“No,” I whispered. “It’s mine.”
A door slammed above us. Isaiah and I cast our gazes to the window as Genevieve’s heels clicked down the staircase and she joined us in the office.
“Morning.” Her dark hair was up in a fancy twist and she was dressed for work, sophisticated and perfect for Isaiah.
He stood to pull out the chair beside his, holding her hand as she eased into the seat. “You look beautiful.”
Had my man ever held out a chair for me? Had he ever stood when I’d come into the room? Was complimenting your fiancée so goddamn difficult?
“How are you feeling?” Genevieve asked, her brown eyes full of concern.
“Yesterday was bad. I haven’t been that drunk in a long time so I was fairly useless all day.” I’d spent hours hovering over the toilet, retching from the tequila. The hangover hadn’t mixed well with my emotional state. “Sorry I didn’t text you back.”
“It’s okay.” Her gaze softened.
Genevieve had inherited Draven’s eyes. I envied that she could look in the mirror and see a living piece of him. All I had was a photo in my desk drawer to pull out when I was feeling alone.
“Ready for your first day of work?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I think so. It will be nice to work with Jim again. I’ve missed him.” She smiled, smoothing out the hem of her black pencil skirt. She’d paired it with a pale blue blouse and stiletto heels. Genevieve Reynolds walked into a room and stole the show. She was stunning, inside and out.
I was pretty, maybe not show-stopping gorgeous, but I was comfortable in my own skin. That confidence had taken me years to build. As a child, I’d perfected the art of blending in and following instruction. Attention had only meant bruises to cover up and explain.
Not until moving to Clifton Forge had I truly let go and embraced who I was.
The hair that I hadn’t been allowed to cut as a kid was now short and bleached white. No one would ever again use my ponytail as a way to hold me hostage while they shouted in my face. At first, the pixie cut had been more a boy’s style than a woman’s. Lately, I’d taken to shaving the sides while keeping the top longer and draped over one eyebrow.
My hair made a statement. My clothes did too. I had a petite frame that didn’t look good in pencil skirts or blouses because I didn’t have the curves to fill them out. Besides, that wasn’t me. I preferred thick-soled boots to heels. My go-to outfit was a pair of baggy overalls with a skin-tight tee underneath. I’d wear cargo pants held to my frame with a cinched belt to give the illusion of hips. If there was boyfriend in the description, chances were, I’d bought it. I’d shunned girly the day I’d left Chicago at eighteen.
The most feminine I’d been since leaving home had been on Saturday, dressed for my wedding.
Maybe Jeremiah had woken up on Saturday morning and realized he’d made a mistake. That he was still in love with the girl with long, blond hair who’d worn pastels and floral skirts. That he wanted the girl I’d left behind.
“Did, um . . .” Genevieve scrunched up her nose. “Did he call you?”
“No.”
The rumble of an engine saved me from another question, though I doubted the grace period would last long.
Leo and Emmett rode in on their Harleys, both parking against the chain-link fence on the far side of the parking lot. They dismounted as Dash pulled in on his own bike.
It was rare for all three of them to be in this early and to arrive together, especially Leo, who didn’t like to work before ten. Dash must have called them in for a meeting, probably about me. Fan-fucking-tastic.
The office door opened and the three men strode inside. The clock on the wall read seven thirty, and the other mechanics wouldn’t be in until eight.
“Pres, how you doin’?” Dash sat in one of the chairs beneath the windows.
“Fine.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” He held up a hand. “No apologies.”
“I haven’t been out back yet, but I’ll go out there soon and get everything left put away.”
“We got it yesterday. There’s a few boxes of stuff for you to take, but everything else is done.”
My shoulders fell, heavy with the guilt that my friends had cleaned up my failed attempt at marriage. “I would have—”
“We know you would have done it,” Emmett said, leaning against a wall. His dark hair was trapped in a knot at the nape of his neck. “But we got you.”
“Thank you. And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Leo took up the space beside Emmett. “You feelin’ better?”
“Yeah.” Physically, at least.
Leo had come over to my house yesterday. He’d been the only one who’d visited, not just texted. He’d brought me Gatorade, saltine crackers and pickles. He hadn’t stayed long, just enough to deliver his hangover kit before leaving me to wallow. He’d probably left my house and come here to help tear down the wedding tent.
“We gotta talk about something.” Dash shared a look with Emmett and Leo. “Two things, actually. First up, Jeremiah.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.” My pleading eyes found his. “Please.”
“We can’t ignore this, Pres.” His gaze softened. “Doesn’t sit right with me that he’s done this to you. But . . . he’s a Warrior, and we don’t need them back in Clifton Forge. As much as I’d like to beat the shit out of his punk ass, we don’t need that kind of trouble.”
Jeremiah had moved to Ashton three years ago to join a motorcycle club. He lived there and worked there, while I’d split my life between the two towns because he’d needed this kind of family. His family in Chicago hadn’t spoken to him in years. He’d been an accidental pregnancy and his parents had always treated him as such. So I’d supported him. I’d stood back as he’d become part of a brotherhood.
Even when it was the wrong brotherhood.
The Arrowhead Warriors had been rivals of Dash, Emmett and Leo’s former club. I’d split not only my time, but my loyalty too. I’d spent three years straddling a barbed-wire fence between the family I had here at the garage and the man who’d asked me to be his wife.
Jeremiah deserved to have his ass kicked. Repeatedly. But I would never advocate for it. I was firmly on the right side of the fence now and wouldn’t put this family of mine in danger.
“Come on, Dash.” Leo stood taller. “That’s bullshit. He—”
“Please, Leo.” I met his gaze. “Just let it be over. If you go after him, it’ll just cause drama for me.”
He frowned, running a hand over his shaggy blond hair before muttering, “Fine.”
Genevieve let out an audible sigh. “I’m glad that’s agreed. We’ve had enough trouble.”
“That’s the truth,” Dash murmured, nodding at his sister. The siblings had different mothers, but they’d both gotten their chocolate-colored hair from Draven.
“What’s the second thing?” Genevieve asked Dash.
“Got a call from Luke Rosen this morning.”
The room went silent. Why was the chief of police calling Dash?
“What did he want?” Emmett’s eyebrows furrowed. “I just talked to him yesterday.”
“It’s a courtesy thing about Dad.” Dash looked to Genevieve. “He was going to call you, but I said I’d tell you myself.”
“Okay.” She stiffened. “Why do I feel like you’re going to give me bad news?”
“Because I am.” Dash rubbed his jaw. “There’s a production company from LA that’s making a movie about your mom’s murder.”
“What?” She shot out of her chair, Isaiah quick to follow. “Can they do that?”
“It’s public knowledge,” Dash said. “They’ll put the Hollywood spin on it so who knows what’l
l come out, but yeah, they can do that.”
“How did Luke get the tip?” Emmett asked.
“The director wants it to be authentic, so they applied for a permit to shoot here. The mayor approved it on Friday. He called Luke early this morning.”
“They’re filming a movie in Clifton Forge.” My mind couldn’t quite wrap itself around that statement. “When?”
“Within the next month or so. Luke doesn’t know exactly when. The city wants the money, so they gave the production company a twelve-month window.”
“What does this mean for us?” Genevieve asked.
“I don’t know,” Dash answered. “But my guess is we’ll see them around.”
“Who? Like actors and shit?” Leo asked.
Dash nodded. “Luke said the mayor hinted that a director and maybe some of the cast might be out to meet the people they’re playing. We might get some visitors at the garage.”
My stomach plummeted. The last thing I needed was for the rich and famous of Hollywood to be at my workplace. I didn’t need to be the sad, pathetic side character they tossed into a movie script for authenticity.
“Do we know who to watch out for?” Genevieve asked Dash.
“Luke said the director’s name is Cameron Haggen.”
“The Oscar winner?” Emmett whistled. “Damn. Who else?”
Dash rubbed his jaw, hesitating. “The only other name Luke knew of was Shaw Valance.”
Shaw Valance.
“Holy fuck,” Emmett muttered as my jaw hit the floor.
Then this would not be a small movie. Even a woman who didn’t have much time for television or movies knew that Shaw Valance was Hollywood’s elite, leading male star. He was America’s hero. I’d seen an article in the salon’s latest issue of People that had estimated his salary for his latest blockbuster at fifteen million dollars. His handsome face was in each issue thanks to the paparazzi who stalked his every move.
Shaw Valance was the last thing we needed in this town and this garage.
Isaiah took Genevieve’s hand, squeezing it tight. “It’ll be okay.”
“I don’t want this.” Her face had paled.
“I know, doll.” He pulled her into his chest, wrapping her up tight. “We’ll lie low. We’ll stay away from it all.”
My friend had just come home to settle into a life with her husband, but now she’d be forced to relive old memories of her parents’ deaths.
“Let’s hope they stay away, do their own thing and are gone before we notice,” Dash said, trying to ease Genevieve’s worries. “I doubt they’ll bother us individually. If anything, they might give some attention to the garage. Presley and I can field questions.”
Leo scoffed. “Or we tell them to fuck off.”
“Best thing we can all do is say ‘no comment,’” Dash said. “Give ’em the cold shoulder.”
Cold? No problem.
I’d made a decision yesterday while I’d been lying on the cool tile of my bathroom floor. I was done letting men hurt me. Jeremiah was the last, and I had no more shits to give.
From here on out, I was the woman with ice in her veins. The woman with a heart of stone.
If Shaw Valance or his award-winning director came anywhere near the garage, I was following Leo’s suggestion.
They could fuck off.
Order Stone Princess
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading Riven Knight! I hope you enjoyed Genevieve and Isaiah’s story.
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An enormous thanks to my editing and proofreading team: Elizabeth Nover, Marion Archer, Julie Deaton, Karen Lawson, Judy Zweifel, Kaitlyn Moodie and Gwyn McNamee. Thank you to Hang Le for Riven Knight’s gorgeous and haunting cover. And thank you to my publicist, Danielle Sanchez, for everything you do to keep the wheels on the bus.
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A huge thanks to all of the amazing bloggers who shout about my books. Thank you to all the incredible readers in Perry Street for your daily love and support. Thanks to friends and family who made it possible for me to shut myself away and write this book.
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And lastly, to Jennifer Santa Ana. For that wonderful day in Texas I’ll never forget. I am so very blessed to call you my friend.
About the Author
Devney is a USA Today bestselling author who lives in Washington with her husband and two sons. Born and raised in Montana, she loves writing books set in her treasured home state. After working in the technology industry for nearly a decade, she abandoned conference calls and project schedules to enjoy a slower pace at home with her family. Writing one book, let alone many, was not something she ever expected to do. But now that she’s discovered her true passion for writing romance, she has no plans to ever stop.
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