Semi-Human (Harper Hall Investigations Book 2) (17 page)

“Shit,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much what I thought, too.”

“So,” Romeo began, scrubbing a hand over his face, “that guy was Riddick’s
father
?”

She raised a brow at him. “Did I stutter?”

He just shook his head. “I knew there was something kinda weirdly familiar about that guy, you know?”

“Yes, your intuitive powers are impressive,” she deadpanned.

As usual, he ignored her sarcasm. “That doesn’t explain why you’re wearing a wig that makes you look like Cher in
Moonstruck
, and why we’re sitting out
here
, if the meeting is in
there
.”

She held up her receiver, which she’d hooked into her phone. “I’m going to listen in on their conversation.”

“He agreed to wear a wire?” he asked, incredulous. “How’d you talk him into that?” Then he cringed. “Ugh. Never mind. Maybe I don’t want to know.”

Harper was a little embarrassed to admit, “He didn’t agree. I sort of…planted it on him when he was on his way out the door.”

Romeo sat up straighter. “Where’d you put the transmitter?”

“In his jacket. Inside breast pocket.”

“Impressive. And the receiver?”

She held up her phone. “Mischa rigged it for me about a month ago. I bugged and tailed the husband of a client once. She thought the guy was one of those furries.”

When he looked confused, she added, “People who dress up like animals and take sexual pleasure from it.”

He looked appalled. “Shit, the world is one fucked-up place.”

Well, if that grossed him out, maybe she’d introduce him to
My Strange Addiction
a little later.

She shrugged. “I say to each his own. Regardless, the phone receiver came in handy. I didn’t have to get too close to him and the chick in the kangaroo suit he was dry-humping.”

He shuddered and repeated, “Shit. Fuck.”

“Yep.”

After a brief pause, he said, “You did a good job with the business, kid. I’m proud of you.”

She jerked back in surprise at the sincerity in his tone. Her relationship with Romeo had never been about compliments and gratitude. It had always been about necessity and parallel crappy circumstances.

But he’d mentored her, taught her everything she knew about being a PI. And even though he’d always had more than his fair share of issues that made him a damn-near impossible partner, she knew she owed the guy, at least on some miniscule level. She loved her job—most of the time. She’d probably be ringing up orders at the Dog N’Suds if not for him.

So, damned if it didn’t make her eyes well up and her heart swell to hear that he was proud of her.

Not that she’d ever let him know that. The asshat.

“Don’t kiss up to me now, you douchebag,” she said, swiping impatiently at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m not forgiving you for injecting me with poison just because you tossed me an offhanded compliment.”

He grinned. “You’ve already forgiven me.”

She snorted. “Right.”

“Got something in your eye, darlin’?” he asked, his voice entirely too smug.

“Fuck you,” she said with a sniffle.

He chuckled, then straightened in his seat. “There he is.”

Sure enough, she thought, following his gaze.

“Let the games begin,” she muttered.

Riddick sat with his back against the wall in the far corner of the bar. He was watching the door, but even if he hadn’t been, he would’ve known when his father walked in.

The air in the room shifted, became thicker. People started clearing out. They probably didn’t even realize why they were so suddenly ready to leave. But Riddick knew.

No one wanted to be caught between two predators.

Riddick downed his beer and raised his eyes as Ken dropped into the chair on the opposite side of his table.

“Glad you decided to wise up and meet me, son.”

“I’m not your son.” Riddick tipped his empty bottle to the waitress, who hurried over with a new one, then scurried away just as quickly. “Just say what you came to say.”

Ken eyed him speculatively. “I’ve been watching your fights.”

“Aw, I’m flattered.”

“Did you always have that smart mouth, or did you pick that up from your little girlfriend?”

Riddick leaned forward, eyeing Ken steadily. “You don’t even get to
think
about her. Do you understand?”

His mouth quirked up. “I believe I do. It’s just as well. I don’t have any interest in mouthy chicks.”

He briefly entertained the idea of slamming Ken’s head into the table, but quickly dismissed it. A public brawl would definitely get the mob bosses’ attention and ensure their disqualification.

A pity, that.

“So,” Ken went on, “your fights have been lasting way longer than they should.”

He raised a brow. “Dear old dad offering fighting tips to his boy? Seems a little out of character for you.”

Ken’s eyes darkened for a moment before slipping back into his usual bored, emotionless expression. “I’m not offering you shit. I’m curious why you didn’t drop those bums in the first ten seconds of every fight.”

“Making it more interesting for the crowd?” He shrugged. “Fuck, who cares?”

Ken snagged Riddick’s beer and took a deep swallow. “Not you. I’ve seen you. You don’t give a fuck about the audience. The only explanation is that you’re pulling your punches.” He leaned forward. “You’re still just a scared little boy, aren’t you? Scared of what you can do. Scared of your gifts—the gifts I gave you.”

“Gifts?” Riddick snorted.

He thought for a moment. What would Harper say at this moment? It didn’t take long before he came up with the exact statement he was sure she’d make. “I hope you kept the receipt, because your
gifts
suck ass.”

Ken’s face flushed and irritation flashed in his eyes. Yep, Riddick thought, he’d definitely said what Harper would’ve said. Most people got that very same look on their faces when Harper hit them with her unique sense of humor and way with words.

But, true to form, Ken’s flash of emotion didn’t last long. “If you pull your punches with me, you won’t walk out of the Arena. You have to know that.”

He knew he’d been pulling his punches, not wanting to kill his opponents. It was also no surprise to him that if he did that with his father, he’d die. But still, in the spirit of doing what Harper would do, he feigned a look of wide-eyed innocence. “So, touching family time is over so soon, Daddy?”

Ken sighed. “I can see you’re going to make this difficult, so I’ll just be straight with you.”

“That would be a refreshing change,” he deadpanned.

“My boss has seen you fight. For some reason, despite you fighting like a goddamn girl, he’s impressed. Wants you to fight with us.”

“Not interested. You’ll be my last fight in the Arena.”

“Don’t be so short-sighted. Since you don’t owe him anything, he’s willing to pay. Huge.”

Riddick cocked his head to the side. “And why are you telling me this and not him?”

“He wanted me to gauge your interest.”

Yeah, that was a total lie. He’d learned a lot about reading body language from Harper, who noticed those kinds of things when people lied to her after she’d had a vision about them. Ken’s eyes had shifted away from him for a split second, and Riddick could hear that his breathing had accelerated—only a little bit, and only for a moment, but it had still happened.

“I met the Vrykolakas mob boss. And if the Lykoi boss is anything like him, he’s not the type to
gauge
anyone’s anything.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “So really, why are you here? What’s in it for you?”

For the first time in their acquaintance-—because truly, they weren’t much more than distant acquaintances-—his father actually looked a little bit proud of him. Just the thought made him nauseous.

“You’re right,” Ken said. “If you agree to fight for the Lykoi—and throw the fight tomorrow night-—my debt is cleared.”

Ah. Now it all made sense. And it made his answer even easier. “It might surprise you to learn that I don’t really give a fuck about your debt—or helping you clear it.”

“Yeah, I figured. But I also figured a sad little foster- care kid like you would want to know more about his family.”

Riddick lifted his palms in a what-the-hell gesture. “What family, man? You certainly don’t count, and Mom’s dead. What’s there to know?”

Ken studied him, narrow-eyed. “Well, I already mentioned that your mom didn’t die of cancer. Aren’t you at all curious what she really died of?”

He was, but he couldn’t trust anything this bastard said, so he shrugged. “Dead’s dead. Don’t see that it makes much difference.”

“Oh, but it does. Especially when she died in childbirth.”

Riddick felt his blood pressure spike at the implications of that statement. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Ken leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “How much do you know about your bloodline, son?”

“Did he just say that Riddick had a brother or sister?”

Harper shushed Romeo, who had leaned close to her to listen to the conversation being transmitted through her phone. Her heart pounded. Jesus, could it be true? Some other poor kid from this messed-up family might be out there right now? Maybe as alone as Riddick was before he met her?

“You know,” Ken said, “the term ‘natural’ is completely full of shit. There’s nothing natural about the way we came into being. When you think about it, we’re about as
natural
as Spam.” He chuckled at his own lame joke.

“What does junk email have to do with this?” Romeo whispered.

Harper glared at him. “He means the meat in a can, not email, idiot,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Now. Shut. Up.”

Romeo looked stupefied. “Meat in a can? Can they do that?”

Harper hurled a graphic death threat at him before shushing him again. She had no earthly clue what Ken was talking about—or how Romeo got to be forty-five years old and hadn’t ever heard of Spam—but she’d never find out if Romeo kept asking stupid questions.

“I met your mom in a Sentry lab,” Ken went on. “I volunteered for some genetic experiment they were running just to get off the street for the night. She was…different than me. Her family turned her over for the same experiments. Said she was touched.”

“Touched?” Riddick asked.

Romeo scoffed. “City boy. Any good Southerner knows what that means. The man is saying that Riddick’s mama was bat-shit crazy.”

Harper put a finger in one ear and held the phone up to the other in an attempt to block out Romeo. While she was doing that, she missed Ken’s reply. Although, she assumed he’d probably just told Riddick some variation of what Romeo had said.

“She wasn’t crazy, though,” Ken added. “She was telekinetic. Could move any damn thing around with nothing more than a thought.”

Harper frowned. “He sounds like he cared about her,” she murmured. “As much as he’s probably capable, at least.”

Romeo shushed her, earning him a karate chop to the chest. He grunted, but didn’t retaliate, seemingly as engrossed in the conversation as she was.

“What kind of experiments did they do on you?” Riddick asked.

Good question, Harper thought. In the case of Riddick’s father, she kind of hoped the experiment involved hooking his genitals up to a car battery and zapping the shit out of him regularly.

“Vampire blood,” Ken answered. “Huge doses of it. Through a dialysis machine.”

“Fuck me,” Romeo muttered.

“Why would they do that?” Riddick asked.

“Who the hell knows what their original hypothesis was? We all assumed they were trying to build day walkers to help them fight vampires.”

Shit, Harper thought. That sounded exactly like something Sentry would’ve done. If they could engineer slayers with the strength, health, and endurance of vampires without any of the weaknesses, vampires wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Most of the subjects couldn’t handle it,” Ken said. “They were edgy, violent, and unpredictable. But there were a few, like me and your mom, who had better control for some reason.”

To the best of Harper’s knowledge, Sentry had wiped out all of the known natural slayers, except for Riddick—and apparently his dad…and possibly his brother or sister—for that very reason.
Edgy, violent, and unpredictable
were pretty tame words and didn’t come close to describing the few Harper had seen in action.

And now it would seem, as Ken had pointed out, that “natural” was totally the wrong word to describe Riddick’s abilities. Yes, he’d been born with his abilities, but only because the same abilities had been created in his parents.

She heard a repetitive, light thudding noise in the background and knew that Riddick was drumming his fingers on the table. When he was anxious or upset, he couldn’t keep his hands still. She fought against her every instinct to go to him. Ken would surely stop talking if she showed up—and Riddick needed to hear about his mom.

And his possible brother or sister.

Harper shook her head. Jesus, would she ever get used to the thought of Riddick having a sibling?

“What happened?” Riddick prompted.

“She promised me anything I wanted if I got her out of there. All I really wanted at that point was her—“

Aw, Harper thought. That was kind of romantic.

“—and money, of course, which she promised she had in trust.”

And splat goes the romance.

“Man, she really hitched her wagon to a star, didn’t she?” Romeo asked, contempt curling his lip into an Elvis snarl.

Harper didn’t bother to shush him. Not when she so whole-heartedly agreed.

“So, you took advantage of a scared woman whose family signed her up for experiments at a government lab,” Riddick said, disgust—but not surprise—plain in his voice.

“I saved her life,” Ken said, sounding surprisingly self-righteous for such an admitted scumbag. “She was sensitive. She wouldn’t have survived in the lab for much longer. And I didn’t just save her—I saved them all.”