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Kristi’s grin was cocky. “We met in grade school. I beat the shit out of the girl that was bullying her.” The glint in Kristi’s eye was a threat.

Jesus-fucking-Christ.

Nico let out a dark chuckle, and Kristi’s grin deepened.

“Good friends are hard to find,” Nico said, looking between them as he leaned back and swirled his glass.

Riley could barely squeak out her agreement, pressing her shoe onto Kristi’s foot where it was hidden in shadow.

Kristi glanced at her phone. “Oh, our friends have arrived downstairs,” she said, giving Nico an apologetic smile. “We won’t be able to have that drink after all.”

Riley stood up, and Nico looked at her under half-lidded eyes. “It was a pleasure to see you both. Riley, I’ll be in touch.”

Something cold walked down her back with shiny shoes and a shark’s smile.

“Bye, Nico,” Riley said, and she followed Kristi out and towards the stairs.

She didn’t look back.

“Oh my god, you were a femme fatale. Totally worked him. I hope you’ll save me, Nico.” Kristi cackled, and Riley yanked on her hand.

“Shut up,” she hissed. “Let’s go.” She ignored the tiny glimmer of victory that pushed at her lips.

They got to the bottom of the stairs, and Kristi tugged her towards the main floor. “One dance. To celebrate.”

“No.” Riley didn’t stop walking.

“Ri…” Kristi whined, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Don’t let them win. We’re already here.”

Riley glared at her.

“We can talk too.” Kristi’s face softened. “We need to.”

They did need to talk. Riley missed her.

“Damn fucking straight we do,” Riley muttered, and Kristi laughed, extending her hand. Riley grabbed it and wove their fingers together. Kristi pulled her through the thick doors and onto the dance floor.

Chapter 34

Saint

Saint rolled his shoulders to resettle the Kevlar vest and glanced around the empty property ringed by dense forest. The vest felt more familiar than his leather jacket—safer—even if he was borrowing it. Mud coated Wheeler’s truck, turning the shiny black into a dull grey under a single floodlight in front of the industrial greenhouse. Saint chucked his bag into the bed and didn’t bother to remove his vest and belt before climbing into the truck.

“Back in the saddle, eh?” Wheeler gave him a stupid grin as he ripped open the Velcro on his vest.

“Leave it. I want to get moving,” Saint ordered, pulling the passenger-side door closed. The back of his neck itched.

“At once, Major.” Wheeler gave him a crappy salute and met Saint’s dead-eyed stare with a wide grin.

“The boys are back in town—”

“Shut it,” Saint barked. “Drive.” It was three in the morning, for fuck’s sake.

“Only ’cause you asked nice,” Wheeler drawled and got into the truck. They bumped down the gravel drive, and the floodlight faded away as they passed the empty farmhouse at the end of the property. The truck crawled back and forth, winding through black trees down the mountainside until they hit actual pavement. Saint grit his teeth, every switchback an eternity.

“You do that run a lot?” Saint waited for his phone to pick up a satellite and drummed his fingers on the door.

Wheeler nodded. “Pay’s good.”