"It's done," Sal says. "The shipment was delivered. The buyer is happy. Clean operation, no hiccups." His call couldn't come at a worse time. What Riley did was really foolish, and I'm upset with her, but I can't blame her at all. I know how desperate she is to see her family.
I exhale slowly and turn away from her wide eyes. "Good."
"You did well, Rafe. Cleaning up Marco's mess wasn't easy, but you handled it. The family is pleased."
"I'm glad to hear it."
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and I can hear the shift in his tone before he speaks again. "Now you need to clean up those loose threads," he says, and I know to what he's referring. He's talking about Riley and giving me a choice now, but I've made that choice already.
"I'm keeping her around," I say.
He pauses again, probably to make sure I’m really listening. "Rafe?—"
"She's an asset. You said so yourself. And I've staked my claim on her. She's not going anywhere."
"People are looking for her, Rafe, and we'll have no explanations. The FBI is investigating. Her family has been all over the news. If that leads back to you, the family will have no choice but to cut ties. We'll feign ignorance of you in every way to keep our hands clean. You understand that, don't you?"
"It won't come to that, Sal. We've already worked out how to handle her return." I'm not even going to mention her little slip-up this evening or he'll show up here himself to put her down.
He's quiet for a long moment, and I can picture him sitting in his office, his fingers steepled in front of himself, weighing the risks against the benefits.
"You're taking a big risk for a woman you barely know," he says finally.
"I know her well enough."
"I hope so. Because if this goes sideways, if she turns on you or the investigation leads back to the family, I won't be able to protect you. You'll be on your own."
"I understand."
"Good. Then handle it… And don't make me regret trusting you on this."
The line goes dead, and I shove my phone back into my pocket. Riley's in the bathroom getting ready for bed, and I can hear the water running in the sink. I'm sure she still thinks that tomorrow we'll drive to Buffalo and walk into her parents' house, but I'm not sure. The Feds have definitely been tracking all calls to and from her family for weeks. It's how they work.
That bit of contact with them is enough to trigger a massive explosion, and this house is right at the epicenter. We should've left, but running at this point will look more suspicious than staying put and lying to their faces.
I run my hand through my hair and stare at the ceiling. Sal's right to be worried. This is risky. If the Feds don't buy Riley's story, the entire operation could collapse. And Sal won't hesitate to cut me loose to save the family.
But I meant what I said. I'm not getting rid of her. I can't. Even if it means him cutting me off. I'd rather that than the alternative.
A knock at the door startles me, and I turn toward it as I hear Riley shuffling up the hallway. It's just the sort of sound that makes your blood run cold when you know no one is aware of where you are. I stand there in shock staring at the door, knowing Feodor would just knock once and let himself in. This is different.
The knock comes again, harder this time, and then I hear a voice.
"Police. We have a warrant. Open the door."
Every muscle in my body stretches tight and I suck in a deep breath to try to relax myself. My weapons and cash are hidden now, stashed where the cops won't think to look, at least not once they see Riley is here. And there's no point bracing for a fight. If they arrest me, I'm done. And if they believe Riley, we may actually have a shot. I won't know until I answer the door.
Riley comes out of the bathroom, her eyes wide. "What's happening?"
"Cops," I say quietly. "They have a warrant."
"For what?"
"To search for you."
I see fear flit across her face and then resolve as she walks past me toward the door.
"What are you doing?" I hiss.
