Page 99 of Ride or Die

Saint surged up and opened his eyes. The exposed brick, the dark curtains, overlaid with trees, slowly resolved into walls as he panted. Gunshots gave way to the patter of rain on the windows. Breath by breath, the smell of blood retreated.

Saint gulped the air and ran his hands over Riley’s back. She was smooth and whole.

He didn’t die. He didn’t die. He didn’t die. The words pounded through his head, over and over. King didn’t die that day. Aaron hadn’t missed.

They’d made it home.

“You okay?” she whispered as she raised her head off the pillow. Saint couldn’t hear out of one ear.

He stared, but not at her, until she rolled over and blinked at him in concern.

“We’re just in the bed. It’s okay,” she told him quietly, and held out her hand for him to take.

But he couldn’t. His skin was still crawling, tacky with blood.

He shook his head too quickly and dragged in breath, mouthing the words until he started to believe them again. He didn’t die.

She lay there and watched him.

His breathing slowed, and the ringing stopped.

“You okay?” she asked again. Her eyes grew heavy, and she snuggled into the pillow.

“Yeah,” he rasped. The bed felt like a bed again.

He watched until her eyes drifted closed and her breathing evened out. Then he reached over and held her hand.

Chapter 31

Riley

Grey light filtered into Saint’s room through the open curtains, and his side of the bed was cool under Riley’s outstretched palm. She’d heard him talking, but when she listened again, the sound was gone. She thought he’d been on the phone. Maybe she’d dreamt it.

She rolled her shoulders, and her arm twinged, Gio’s tattooed hand flashing through her mind. What a shitshow. Saint’s hoodie hid the mark from view and offered a cozy place to hide from the world.

But she needed coffee.

The loft was filled with soft light, and Cookie stretched out in a beam of sun.

“Hey.”

Saint leaned against the counter in the kitchen and set a steaming mug down.

She padded closer. She liked the way his eyes travelled over her bare legs before he turned to pour another mug of coffee, but something was different. Cookie grumbled as she walked by but thumped his tail against the floor when she bent to pet him.

Dark circles stood out under Saint’s eyes, but the faint smile had none of the violence from yesterday. He looked settled. Resolved. The kitchen tile was bitingly cold, and she tiptoed towards the steaming mug.

“Good morning.” He caught her around the waist with one arm and planted a kiss on her hair before handing her the mug of black coffee. She leaned into him, bringing the mug up to inhale the bitter steam.

“You seem happy this morning,” Riley said, voice still husky with sleep.

Saint’s eyes went carefully blank.

Unease crept across the floor and bit at her toes. She needed slippers.

He smiled a moment later and kissed her again.

“What’s not to like?” He pulled open the fridge and set bacon and a carton of eggs on the counter. “What do you want for breakfast?”