Page 5 of Ride or Die

Giovanni Ricci: Invoice?????

Riley,

Still waiting. How many times does this have to happen?

-G

Riley reread the email thread and blew hair out of her face. How many times do you have to claim weird expenses, Gio?

She opened the master invoice spreadsheet she’d built from scratch and dropped to the bottom, quickly scanning the last few entries.

Gio Ricci | $13,489.67 | Client Expenses | February 27 | SUBMITTED

“Get screwed, Gio. It’s right there,” Riley muttered. She’d submitted it last week.

She dropped her chin to her chest, and her neck popped. He probably hadn’t even checked with Finance to see when he’d be reimbursed. Asshole.

She leaned back in her chair, tipping it. Her attempt at finding balance.

She submitted the invoices and didn’t look too hard at them. She didn’t try to figure out how three people could possibly spend thirteen thousand dollars on dinner, and she didn’t insist on getting receipts. If her boss, Nico, said it was fine, it was fine. Gio was his brother, after all.

It was Finance’s problem, not hers.

The phone on her desk rang, and Riley jerked, the chair threatening to dump her over backwards. She gripped the edge of the desk before she wound up on the floor and pulled herself in.

The display lit up, and the phone rang again. She scowled at it and tugged out her earphones. No one ever called Nico on his office number.

But unlike Gio, this was her problem.

“Attivia Industries. How can I help you?”

“This is Cascadia PD, Detective Achison. Is Mr. Ricci available?”

The familiarity of the voice pressed her shoulders together. It hadn’t been long enough.

“Andrew?” Riley whispered. Her fingers tightened, and the plastic handset creaked.

“This is Detective Achison—wait. Riley?”

The air in the office was too dry, and it became hard to breathe. His voice had been absent from her life for almost two years. Different job, different apartment, different everything. Her life had needed a complete overhaul after they broke up—in a spectacularly public fashion—at the very precinct he was probably calling from, no less.

Thanks for that, by the way.

“Riley, why are you answering this phone number?”

The apology caught in her teeth, and she took a deep breath instead.

“How can I help you?” she asked, running her nail along her thumb, picking at the skin there. An anxious habit she’d had in her old life. With him. She’d thought she’d put that behind her.

She tucked her thumb in her hand and held it there.

“Seriously, Ri, why are you answering this phone?” Andrew pulled the bite out of his voice by the end of the sentence, like he remembered she didn’t belong to him anymore.

Better late than never.

“I work here. It’s my job to answer the phone.”

Riley picked at a loose thread on the edge of her blouse and then tore it off cleanly. Andrew’s exhale buzzed in her ear. He probably had his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger.