Deceptions: A Cainsville Novel by Kelley Armstrong Page A

gaze away, Ricky sidestepped to catch it again.
    “No, seriously,” Ricky said. “What does that mean?”
    “I have a bad feeling . . .”
    “A bad feeling? You want me to dump a girl that I’m crazy about because you have a bad
feeling
?”
    Don’s jaw set. “I don’t like this relationship. Does that work better? I just don’t like it, and I want you to end it.”
    “Is that an order?”
    His father gave ground as Ricky tried to close the gap between them.
    “No, really,” Ricky said. “You’re the boss. You can give me the ultimatum: end it or walk away from the club. Is that what you’re doing?”
    “I’m asking—”
    “Quit pissing around, Dad. You’re always telling me I need to be decisive. So make up your mind. Are you
telling
me?”
    Don met his gaze. “Yes, I am.”
    “All right, then.” Ricky shucked his jacket and held it out to him. “Here’s my answer.”
    When his dad didn’t take the jacket, he dropped it at Don’s feet and walked out.
    —
    Ricky climbed off his bike, then sat there, one foot on the curb, as he shivered. The night wasn’t cold, but without his jacket he felt . . . Well, he felt a lot of things.
    He rubbed the goose bumps on his arms and looked at Gabriel’s condo tower. Liv was up there. All he had to do was park the bike, walk into the lobby, and buzz.
    Where’s your jacket?
That’s the first thing she’d say, and then he’d tell her, and her eyes would widen in alarm.
Are you crazy?
    Yes, maybe.
    You don’t want to do this
, she’d say.
    I know . . .
    Has he called?
    He’d nod and tell her yes, a half-dozen calls and texts from his father, none of which he’d read, let alone answered.
    Call him and tell him if he wants to talk, he can meet at your place. Now. I mean it. You don’t want to run back to him, but you need to talk about this. You need to fix this.
    I know.
    She’d hug him and he’d feel her heart pounding, worried for him, and that would calm his own racing heart, reassure him that this could be fixed, that she’d make sure he fixed it.
    He knew exactly what she’d say and what she’d do. All the right things.
    His father wanted him to give that up? Because he had a bad feeling?
    Goddamn it!
Ricky knocked the kickstand out hard and swung from his bike. He looked up at the apartment. Then he yanked off his helmet and started for the door. Knowing what Liv would say was one thing, but right now he really needed to hear it.
    He strode into the silent lobby. Apartment 5512. He checked his watch. It wasn’t ridiculously late yet, but admittedly, if he pushed that button at this hour, he might piss off Gabriel, which he really didn’t need. He should text Liv first and make sure she was still up.
    He pulled out his phone. He had five voice-mail messages. Four were from Don, but the last was from Liv herself. He hit Play.
    “Hey, it’s me. Really hoped to catch you before I went to bed.” She paused. “Which sounds whiny, doesn’t it? Sorry. Long night. I know you’re busy. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    He checked the time stamp. It’d come right after he’d stomped out of the clubhouse, ignoring all calls, thinking they were his father.
    Liv had had a hellish evening, and she’d gone to bed to get some rest. How could he wake her up and dump his own problems on her? How the fuck had he even considered that?
Hey, I know you were reunited with your father in a prison visiting room tonight, but I’ve got some dad issues, too, so let’s talk about mine.
    Ricky ran his hand through his hair and exhaled, shaking his head.
What the hell was I thinking?
    I wasn’t thinking. I was reacting. It’s all shot to hell and the only good thing left is fifty-five stories up, out of reach. But I’m going to do the right thing and let her sleep.
    He pushed open the lobby doors and walked out. As he did, he caught sight of a Volvo parked across the road. The car was running, a man in the driver’s seat, the window down as he