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Ride or Die

Page 147

by Bronwyn Alexander



When Saint and Riley got back up the stairs to the loft, the TV was on, and Aaron, Wheeler, and Dante stood around it. A panoramic shot of downtown flashed before zooming in as a suited figure walked into the precinct downtown. He was surrounded by reporters and cops, flanked by two beefy guys who looked like the security from the club.

Wheeler glanced at them and turned the volume up.

“Nico Ricci, entrepreneur and well-known businessman, was arrested today on several charges including collusion, money laundering, and racketeering… This follows the high-profile murder of his brother, Giovanni Ricci. Are the two related?” The reporter’s voice faded into the background as Riley stared at Nico on TV.

A small smile sat on Nico’s lips like getting arrested was his idea, but Riley could see the black rage in his eyes.

“Attivia Industries assets have been frozen until an investigation can be completed…”

Dante snorted. “What a fucking waste of time. He’ll be out in an hour,” he said, then turned and headed towards the back patio.

Saint was silent behind Riley, almost touching her but not quite.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Aaron said, eyes on Saint. They did their unspoken communication thing before Aaron’s gaze flickered to her. She couldn’t read whatever was on his face, but that seemed on purpose. Aaron followed Dante out.

“You okay, doll?” Wheeler glanced at her, arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at the TV.

She nodded woodenly, and the footage looped.

Wheeler turned off the TV and clapped a hand on Saint’s shoulder before he walked away. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She couldn’t move, eyes still on the TV. Staring at her reflection.

“What do you need right now?” Saint’s voice was barely a whisper.

A hug? A lobotomy?

“I should have known.”

He patted his thigh, and Cookie leapt up. “Let’s go for a walk.”

She followed them wordlessly, drifting down the stairs and out of the building, into the evening air again.

It tasted different now that Andrew had gone.

They wandered through the alleys, and Cookie stopped at every corner, snorting and snuffling before moving on. The air was heavy with incoming rain. They passed older houses, some decaying, others tended tirelessly with tall trees in the front yard. The city was a mess of neglect and perfectionism.

The streetlamps created puddles of light, and Riley paused at the edge of each one before stepping back into the night.

“I get that what happened to Gio isn’t on me, but is this? Was I involved in money laundering and who knows what else without knowing it?” Her thoughts circled. What if she hadn’t quit? Would she have been arrested? Should she have been?

Would Andrew have been the one to do it?

Would she have deserved it?

You’re a good person.

“What does it change if you were?” Saint asked.

They stopped as Cookie rooted through the grass between the sidewalk and the street. He sneezed, his nose covered in dirt, and Saint crouched to brush it off.

Cookie’s tongue flicked out and caught Saint on the chin before he stood again.

“Do you feel bad,” she whispered, “about all the stuff you did? Before?”

She didn’t really know she was asking.