“Nooooo!” Griffin kicked his feet. “This suit is Indonesian mohair!”
“Better than being buried in it,” Riley quipped as she flipped the lid.
Nick tossed Hudson inside, then picked up her ex-husband, office chair and all, and tossed him into the dumpster.
She flipped the lid back down just in time for Nick to grab her and drag her after him in a dead sprint.
“Everybody get d—”
Nick didn’t get to finish the warning as the explosion ripped through the building. The blast of the concussion hit Riley in the back, and she felt herself flying.
But Nick never let go of her hand.
She landed hard with all two hundred and thirty pounds of Nick Santiago on top of her. A human shield against the heat and debris. Her own personal hero.
Wrapping her arms around him, she held on tight and buried her face in his shoulder.
A flaming life-size cutout of Griffin sailed overhead before crashing to the asphalt.
Nick grinned down at her. “Come here often?”
Across the parking lot, Gabe stood with Mrs. Penny, who was poking debris with her cane. Bella was signing autographs for the firefighters.
“Are we alive?” Riley asked.
“You tell me,” Nick said, lowering his mouth to hers.
“Get a room,” Mrs. Penny shouted from across the parking lot.
“Hello? Is anybody out there?” called a tinny-sounding voice from the dumpster.
43
1:12 p.m., Tuesday, August 18
There was something comforting about the aftermath of a crime, Riley thought as she watched firefighters, paramedics, and cops slowly restore order to Sixth Street.
Channel 75, a rival news channel located just down the block, gleefully reported live from the scene while Chris Yang tried his best to record Bella Goodshine reporting the news on an iPhone while a paramedic bandaged his injured foot. Chelsea was strapped to a gurney while an EMT attempted to remove a stapler that had embedded itself in her hair. Firefighters pulled a still duct-taped Griffin from the dumpster.
The rest of the Channel 50 staff was celebrating being alive and the prospect of getting a new building with drinks at a bar two blocks down.
“No more moldy break room.”
“No more stopped-up toilets.”
Riley sat half a block back from the barricades to avoid the cameras while Nick gave his statement. She’d already given hers and had taken Kellen aside to strongly suggest he look into what had happened to Hudson’s brother’s high school bullies. He’d find more death and, if he looked beneath the surface, more murder.
Families would get answers to questions they didn’t know they had. She wondered if the knowing would do more harm than good. Wondered if a high school bully would have grown into a compassionate adult if given the chance. But Hudson had taken those chances away.
Gabe was next to her, his biceps and shoulders covered in shallow cuts and scrapes from the shrapnel. He was still shirtless, but one of the paramedics had given him scrub pants.
“You did great today, Gabe,” Riley said, nudging him with her shoulder.
He beamed down at her. “It was my honor.”
“We make a great team.”
“It would appear so.” He looked at his extra-large hands. “I am sorry for saying you wish to go nowhere. That is not what friends do.”
