Page 65 of Shark’s Rise

“Chiffonade. You take the leaves of basil, or really any leafy green veg, and then you—”

“Twombley!” I shouted to bring him back to fucking earth.

“What?” He honestly looked like he didn’t know why I was redirecting him.

“Pyromaniac?” Elijah and I said in tandem.

“You knew that.” He pointed at Elijah accusatorily.

“Yeah, but I didn’t.” I turned to Elijah. “And you did? What the fuck, Banks?”

He released a resigned sigh. “She has priors.” Then attempted to dismiss the whole tangent—which wasn’t one—with a similar shrug.

“What?” I whipped a shocked glare between them both. “How is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”

“Dude. Chill,” Grant flung. “She’s not an actual threat. It’s…well, it’s more of a mental health problem. Well, not a problem—more of an issue, really…”

“Stop.” I stabbed a hand up like a crossing guard. “Just stop.” Only he wasn’t some schoolkid, and Rio Gibson wasn’t just the “weird girl” he was defending. Christ, he was really defending her. And the fact that she’d been arrested on pyromania charges.

“She’s just working out some stuff, okay?” Grant growled.

“Exxaaaccctttlllyy. Isn’t every pyro?” Elijah muttered.

“What I’m saying is that she’s not out there, like, blazing on a daily basis…”

“Oh, that makes everything better,” I deadpanned.

“She struggles with it, damn it. She’s got some demons.”

“Again. Don’t we all?”

“Exactly.” Grant looked over, actually thinking Elijah’s quip had been on the level, which hammered me with an undeniable truth. Grant Twombley had it bad for Rio Gibson. God help us all.

“It’s just that the way she deals with hers can lead to a felony arrest. She needs to be in treatment, but even her husband doesn’t know about the problem. No one in that perfect little family she married into does—so she’s been struggling alone.”

“Until you came along?” I asked.

“Something like that.” He shrugged, but the gesture looked awkward on his broad, usually dominant frame. Grant Twombley didn’t fucking shrug.

“So who could use a bottle of water? Or something even stiffer?”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “It’s like herding cats around here.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid I’m not going to have much more to offer.” Elijah handed us both bottles of water before sitting on the arm of the sofa. “I’d like to wrap up the investigation with the keychain and then dig more into the pirate mess. I know public relations has been all over it while we’ve been away, so check in with them.”

My friends both stood to leave.

“Congrats again, man,” Elijah said one last time, and then they both left.

After the guys left, I got back to work with a vengeance. In the after-hours stillness of the building, I was able to work efficiently. I cleared my email inbox and worked on a spreadsheet of projected expenses for the Edge’s construction until my eyes began to cross. When I looked at the clock on the wall, I realized it was closing in on seven o’clock, and I was more than satisfied with the day I’d put in. I texted Joel that I was ready to head home, and since I’d worked late, we should avoid a good amount of rush hour traffic. Then I sent a text to Abbigail to see if she needed anything before I headed out of downtown.

Leaving the office. Do you need me to stop anywhere?

Nope. Dori’s been great.

See you soon. Wear something blue tonight.

When I got home, I went straight to our bedroom—but my woman was nowhere to be found. The bathroom was empty too.