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Ride or Die

Page 121

by Bronwyn Alexander

The both of them. Jesus.

He popped a cracker into his mouth and then tossed the box to Kristi. She barely caught it and wobbled into the kitchen. Wheeler helped her up and pulled her back onto the counter next to him.

They tossed crackers back and forth, and Riley remained rooted to the floor as Saint and Aaron stared daggers at each other.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, share with the class. We’re all very curious.” Kristi looked at them, a bored expression on her pale face.

Does she not notice that Aaron looks like he’s going to eat someone?

“What?” Kristi caught Riley’s eye. “If they were going to kill us, they would have already. I don’t think we need to worry.”

Riley’s jaw fell open, and Saint and Aaron broke their staring contest to give her twin flat looks.

“What happened to the red flag PowerPoint?” Riley asked, voice hoarse.

Kristi shrugged, chewing another cracker. “I like red, as it turns out.”

It took all of Riley’s courage, and then some, to risk drawing the attention of angry men and move her feet. Saint gave her arm a quick, kind squeeze as she passed him, and it did help. A reminder. It might feel like the air had turned to concrete, but she was safe.

Exposure therapy is uncomfortable.

Riley tiptoed across the kitchen tile and hopped up on the counter.

“I made a call.” Saint crossed his arms and squared his stance.

“I did not have this in mind when I suggested that,” Aaron clipped. “We should have talked about it.”

“You think I suggested this?” Saint raised both eyebrows. “He’s a loose fucking cannon, which was always the entire problem. We knew this was a possibility.”

“It’s bad timing,” Aaron stated.

“No shit.”

“I’m confused. Are you confused?” Riley whispered, and Wheeler offered her a cracker.

“Aaron’s hot when he’s mad. Don’t you think?” Kristi asked, far louder than she should have.

Riley leaned around Wheeler to stare at her as Aaron and Saint continued their standoff. Kristi looked completely unrepentant, pupils dilated.

“You made a PowerPoint about us?” Wheeler asked quietly, eyes still fixed on the men, but his shoulders were relaxed. Like this was entertainment.

But maybe when you’re two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, anger isn’t that scary.

“Kristi didn’t make you a slide,” Riley mumbled.

“Ouch,” Wheeler said and then turned to whisper more to Kristi. Riley’s thoughts ran together as the kitchen shrank, the black and white tile blurring and fading as she stared.

How many casualties were at the docks? Was it a gang war? Is it still happening? The questions sped up, and Riley pulled out her phone. She scrolled through the local news, red banners giving minute-by-minute updates.

GIOVANNI RICCI DECEASED — GANG-RELATED DEATH NOT RULED OUT.

“Holy fuck.” Riley’s phone clattered to the floor.

Kristi jumped down to pick it up, almost losing her balance and falling. Saint moved too quickly and caught her.

“Fine, I’m fine,” Kristi hissed at him like a cat and yanked her arm out of his hold.

Saint looked at Riley, exasperation in his eyes, but she couldn’t smile back. Her mouth couldn’t move.