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“Look at the formatting and colour coding—not do math….fuck.” Riley’s throat clamped closed. Kristi’s bright eyes flashed with hurt. She smoothed her cocky grin back on a moment later.

“Look, it’s good I did, okay? Because I figured something out.”

“No.” Riley didn’t want to know. She hadn’t looked into the dropped zeros or the repeated dates. She nodded along when Nico told her not to worry about it. Whatever was going on, they weren’t her mistakes. Not her problem. Asking questions in Cascadia was dangerous. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

“See? You already know something is up.” Kristi scooted forward on her knees until they touched Riley’s. “It’s big. Remember how I always said your work was shady? Well, it is! And now I know why!” The manic light in Kristi’s eyes should have been dulled by the whisky but wasn’t.

“Riley. Pay attention.” Kristi snapped her fingers in her face, and Riley bared her teeth. “He’s money laundering, like hundreds of thousands. I just have to figure out for who.”

Cold ricocheted through Riley. That was worse than missing a few taxes here and there.

“You could have made a mistake.” Even as Riley said it, she knew. She knew. Kristi was good at math. And coding. She understood accounting.

Too much fell into place, like dominoes tipping, one after another. Gio’s demands for prompt reimbursement, the police phone calls. You’re doing everything perfectly.

Riley’s eyes slammed shut—as if that would wind back time.

“It’s not a mistake. Nico is committing federal crimes, plural. And I fucking told you.”

Heat burned in Riley’s diaphragm, and she grabbed onto her anger before anything else could pull her down. “Are you kidding me right now? You told me so?”

Kristi stared at her, emotions flashing too fast to track.

“Told her what?” Wheeler’s voice was a train smashing into the burning car on the tracks. The music they’d put on sounded far away, and Aaron was looking at them—Riley could feel Saint’s attention, a touch along her back.

Kristi pressed her lips together.

“Oh, now you’re going to keep your mouth shut?” Riley burned cold.

“Your call. He’s your boss.” Kristi held her gaze, and Riley’s hands twitched. She blinked rapidly and yanked the chain on her tears.

Riley wished she was someone who could be mean and scary when she was mad, but she wasn’t. She cried.

Later. You can cry later. When no one is looking at you.

“Nico Ricci?” Aaron’s voice was soft—the moment before a wave crashed on the beach and smashed everything to pieces.

Riley dragged her eyes to his. “Yeah,” she breathed out, wishing it was rage and not guilt that coiled through her.

Riley shouldn’t have sent Kristi anything. She looked down at her hands fisted together, knuckles white. She closed her eyes, breath sharp.

Someone shifted, jeans on leather, and Riley opened her eyes.

Aaron’s eyes flicked over her head, and she twisted to see Saint’s face. After a moment he nodded, but the ease of the evening was gone.

Because of her.

“It’s okay.” Saint’s gaze dropped to her, voice low and soft. “Tell us what happened.”

Riley’s shoulders drooped as he shifted forward in the chair, pulling her back against his legs. He was warm and solid, just like always. A sigh gusted out of her dry lips. Fucking Pavlov.

Kristi watched her, that cold flicker in her eyes. Riley had to look away, her breathing no longer automatic.

“I colour-coded the invoicing master at work, beautifully actually, and sent it to Kristi to show her.” The words left her mouth and fell to the floor. After Nico told me to delete it.

“And?” Aaron’s night eyes were deep and dark, space with no end.

“It’s not Nico’s fau—”