“Drowning isn’t the Russian’s usual style, but I could see a former KGB officer being a little more subtle than most,” I say.
“Right.” Callum nods. “Still, it’s weird if they targeted Riona.”
“Who else?”
“Maybe the Hartford family,” Riona pipes up.
“Who’s that?” Callum asks.
“A couple of months ago Enzo Gallo asked me for help. Or, more accurately, one of the other Italian families needed help,” Riona says, with an expression of distaste. “Bosco Bianchi was driving drunk and high with a couple of sixteen-year-old girls in his car. One of them went through the windshield. She was put in a medically-induced coma. Bosco’s toxicity test went missing, and I got his confession thrown out. The DA settled for eight months in medium-security. The girl never recovered.”
I can tell Riona feels bad about the girl. And she’s embarrassed that she facilitated Bosco’s deal, but she doesn’t shrink away from admitting it.
“Virginia Hartford was taken off life support last week,” Riona says. “She’s got a father and an older brother. If I was them, I might want revenge.”
I write that down, same as I did the information about the Russians.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll check that out too. Anyone else?”
A longer pause, and then Riona says, “Maybe Luke Barker.”
“Who’s that?”
“He was a senior attorney at my firm. He got handsy with me at the company Christmas party and Uncle Oran fired him.”
“Where is he now?”
“I have no idea,” Riona says coldly.
“Alright,” I say, marking his name down, too. “That’s a good start. We’ll run down those possibilities starting tomorrow.”
It’s getting close to midnight. I can see Callum trying not to yawn. He gives his sister a hug, telling her, “We’ll figure it out, Ree. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” she says. “I just want to know, one way or another.”
“Say hi to Aida for me,” I tell Callum.
“I’m sure I’ll get the chance in an hour or two when Miles wakes us up,” Cal says.
Riona and I get back into the Escalade and head back over to her apartment building.
“We can park in the underground parking,” she says. “I have an assigned spot, even though I don’t have a car.”
I can see why Riona picked this condo—it’s a lot like her corner office. High and lonely with a stunning view. I can tell she likes things that are aesthetically stark, and completely within her control.
It’s only once we’re alone in the apartment that Riona seems to realize I’ll be sleeping here, within the bubble of her personal space.
“I’m fine on the sofa,” I tell her.
“Right,” Riona says, with an expression of discomfort. “I’ll get you some clean sheets.”
I unbutton my shirt and shuck it off, planning to wash up and brush my teeth at the sink like I usually do.
Riona comes back surprisingly fast, carrying a stack of fresh bedding. Her eyes flit across my bare torso and I’m surprised to see her blush. I didn’t take her for the modest type.
“Here,” she says, shoving the bedding at me and not meeting my eye.
“What’s wrong?” I say, not able to resist teasing her a little.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she says brusquely.
I’m pretty sure I got the honest Riona to tell a fib.
“Do you need toothpaste or anything?” she mutters.
“Nah. I brought my Dopp kit.”
“Alright. Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight, Riona.”
She retreats into her bedroom, and I hear the muffled sounds of water running, and light feet padding around as she readies herself for bed.
Because I’m a nosy fucker, I poke around her living room a bit.
It’s alarmingly clean. Unlike Dean, Riona would do just fine in the military. Her books are lined up with soldier-like precision. I couldn’t find a speck of dust with a hundred white gloves. Even her remote is set at a perfect ninety-degree angle on the television stand.
All that order makes me wonder. In my experience, when somebody clings that tightly to a sense of control, it’s because something happened to them at some point in their lives that made them feel powerless.
I think of Riona describing Luke Barker and how he got “handsy” with her at the Christmas party. Her voice was as calm as ever. But I don’t feel calm, thinking about it. I feel a stab of something very like anger. I want to put Luke at the top of my list of people I plan to talk to.
I lay out a crisp, clean sheet on top of the sofa to protect the cushions. Then I lay down and slip into a light slumber. A soldier’s sleep—the kind you wake from easily.
Riona’s scream jolts me right off the couch.
Before my eyes are even open, I’ve jumped up and I’m running to her room.
I rip open her door and flip on the light.
She’s tangled up in her sheets, ripping and clawing at them where they’re wrapped around her throat.
I pull her out of the bedding, wrapping her up in my arms instead. She’s only wearing a light silk camisole and shorts, and she’s shivering, from cold or from fear.
“Shh,” I tell her. “It’s alright. I’m here.”
Embarrassed, she tries to pull away from me. But I keep my arms around her, pulling her against my chest. I can feel her heart hammering away against my bare skin, and her slim frame shaking.
“I thought I was drowning,” she gasps out.
Again I feel that flood of anger that a man put his hands on this woman. Riona is desperate to seem strong and independent. But the truth is she’s fragile in the way that all women are fragile—smaller than men, and vulnerable to violence.
I have a sister. I’d fucking kill anyone who tried to touch her.
And I feel that same drive to protect Riona. To keep her safe. Not just because Dante asked me to. Because she needs it. She needs my help.
“I’m here,” I tell her again. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
I can feel her heart beating wildly against my forearm. It feels like a bird caught in a cage, struggling to get out. Riona’s whole body is shaking.
But after a minute, she stops fighting and she sinks down against my chest, allowing me to hold her. Allowing me to warm her with my arms, so her shivering stops.
I don’t think she’d ever allow this, if she weren’t exhausted and terrified. In fact, she’ll probably be embarrassed in the morning.
But right now, she accepts my comfort.
I hold her like that for almost an hour, until her body goes heavy and warm with sleep.
7
Riona
I wake up alone in my bed with the sunshine streaming in through my window.
I slept in late, which is strange for me.
I can hear the clinking sound of somebody moving around in my kitchen. I realize it’s Raylan, and I remember how I woke up screaming in the night.
My face burns, knowing what a fool I made of myself. Screaming like a little kid with a nightmare.