Page 31 of Riot

My father had been doting, and there was no mistaking the look in his eyes when he’d gazed at my mom. It was pure, unconditional love. She’d looked at him the same way, like my dad was her unicorn.

“No. Just rare,” I said, feeling the ache of my loss. “Not everyone can find their unicorn, Riot.”

“But it can be found,” he said. “Sometimes all you have to do is open your eyes.”

I looked up at him, only to find him watching me closely.

He’d opened his eyes. But that was insane, wasn’t it? Had to be coincidence that Riot had opened them at the same time he’d said that. I wasn’t his unicorn, even though a secret part of me wished that I was.

A green sedan pulled into the lot, nearly clipping Riot’s motorcycle. He didn’t even flinch, let alone jump to his feet or cuss. His eyes tracked the car as it came to a stop, but the air had grown a little heavier.

“I’m here, Calvin,” Carla said when she got it, slamming her car door closed. She was my height but thick in the hips. On her feet were three-inch heels that clacked against the pavement as she walked. “Couldn’t find anyone, so I’m here. You can clock out and leave.”

She was digging through her huge bamboo purse like she was excavating, never once looking our way.

Carla walked inside and disappeared inside the office.

“Unreal. You could’ve been over here strangling me and she wouldn’t have been a credible witness,” I said. “That’s…pretty fucked up.”

“She always this oblivious?” Riot studied the door of the laundromat, his eyes slightly narrowed, like he was running surveillance in his head. He’d looked the same way a few times yesterday. Still, focused. Was he ex-military?

Great, another positive attribute. Next I’ll find out he has some kind of superpower.

Riot’s hand landed softly on my back, moving in a circular motion.

Was he trying to comfort me?

“I need to get out of this place.” I stood and gathered some of our trash. “It’s messing with my mind. Thank god I have tomorrow off. I’ll need a full day to recover.”

Riot stood as well, helping with cleanup.

“Be right back. Gotta clock out.” I clutched an empty bowl and soda can to my chest like Mrs. Hensley had crushed her bag. If I started apologizing to Riot, I was quitting. “Unless you need to take off. Understandable. I really appreciated the dinner. Meant a lot to me.” Go clock out before he saves a child from a runaway bus.

Riot grinned. “Go do what you need to. I’m not going anywhere.”

Halfway to the door, I spun around. “Your bowl isn’t trash.”

Riot took it, trading it for his empty can.

As soon as I stepped inside, Carla called out, “Already taken care of. Be careful walking home alone.”

Depositing the cans in the nearest trash, I walked back outside and spread my arms. “Freedom never tasted so sweet. Carla hopes I don’t get mugged. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand.” It was something my dad used to say.

Riot shook his head, fighting a smile. The sunset had dropped lower, shadows cutting across the parking lot. “You’ve definitely had a long day.”

“Where to?” I asked, joining him by his bike. There was one place I would love to go, but I didn’t have the guts to say it.

Didn’t have to. Riot said it for me. “My place?”

“As long as I don’t have to deal with a temperamental dryer or apologetic elderly, let’s go.”

I’d completely lost my mind, becoming reckless. Voluntarily climbing onto the motorcycle when I barely knew him.

Riot had gotten me on the back of his bike. His kidnapping plot had worked. Or maybe it was the food. I wasn’t resisting. I had absolutely no self-preservation. I was willingly hugging his sides as he drove off into the night.

Chapter Seven

Riot