Page 93 of Riot

“If you wanna get paid, you’ll grab me an iced coffee and whatever Riot wants.”

“You buyin’?” I laugh.

“Ooh, in that case, I’ll grab a couple of lobster rolls.” She reaches over and plucks more money out of his fingers and runs off before he can stop her.

“Chicken Caesar for me!” I yell after her.

Tag sighs. “That girl is trouble.”

“Well, she’s gonna do what she wants. She’s not a kid anymore, bro.”

“Get that, but Callaghan? Over my dead body is that ever gonna happen.”

“Wonder what he wanted with H?”

“Secretive asshole. Like you said, any excuse to come snoopin’ by.”

“So you’re cool if I assign the prospects to keep watch of Halo’s apartment and her office while she’s at work, and my sister — she was at Hope’s this weekend.”

“Yeah, I’ll let ’em know.”

“Thanks, bro.” I slap him on the back. “You sure you’re not comin’ down with somethin’?”

He scowls again. “Why’d you say that?”

“Like Stell said, you seem extra grumpy today.”

He shoves me by the shoulder. “Fuck off.”

“Can’t.” I wave to the door. I also don’t tell Tag that Stella stopped by Callaghan’s window and is currently bent over talking to him. The guy is gonna end up with two black eyes and no face left. Sometimes you just gotta pick your battles. “Got a feelin’ that wrap might be a while.”

18

HALO

I fly through the day,clocking off at four-thirty as I head out to my car and take the short drive over to the address Riot gave me this morning to his place.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but a nice neighborhood is an understatement.

I saw the address in Lakeview this morning, but didn’t take much notice of it since I was rushing out the door. What I’m met with are immaculate cottage gardens and tidy lawns, quaint cottages and neat as a pin streets.

It’s not the kind of place I would ever picture Riot living. I kinda suspected he’d have the ultimate bachelor pad in the city, a parking garage for all his toys and his hot motorcycle. Not Anne of Green Gables. I laugh at my own joke, and when I pull up to the address, I look down at the paper on the passenger seat, and back up to the house.

Okay.

There’s pebbled cement leading all the way up the pathway to two columns that frame the front porch. The house itself is on a corner lot, has white shiplap on the outside with a bright blue front door and hedging all around. I can’t see Riotgardening, but the garden is beautiful. Two large, crepe myrtles hang out front, their beautiful pink flowers in bloom. I park in the driveway and take a couple of breaths.

I texted Riot throughout the day and he said Cookie was good and they’d been hanging out while he did some stuff on the computer. I also got regular snapshots of Cookie sleeping, sprawled out and one selfie of them both lounging back on his comfy looking couch. I like playful Riot. It’s cute.

I look to the passenger seat where the Amazon package arrived today and shove it in my purse. It feels silly now, but I got Riot a present. I don’t know if I’ll give it to him because I’m having second thoughts, but when I heard he had night terrors and couldn’t sleep very well, I wanted to try and help somehow. I heard him whimpering the other night, but he eventually calmed and then went back to sleep. I feel for anyone with PTSD, especially after what he suffered with as a child. His scars will be there forever. Every time I think of Riot as a fifteen year old boy, rifle in hand after killing his own father, I want to weep for him. You can’t ever recover from something as traumatic as that, you just can’t, and it makes me wonder what he’s done to cope since then. His poor sister too. She was so much younger then and held on for dear life. I’d certainly like to shake hands with this Charles character. Riot spoke so highly of him, and what he did for those two children is commendable.

I step out of my car and head to the front door, my heels clicking on the pavement as I walk.

I mount the couple of steps and then I’m standing on the porch, ringing the doorbell. I hear Cookie bark and my heart melts. A few moments later, Riot opens the door and he’s wearing…sweats?Woah, hold the bus. He looks hot.

“Hey.”

I glance down at his body, unable to keep my eyes from wandering. “Hey yourself.”

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