Page 56 of Grant’s Heat

“Oh, that’s going to be the tip of the iceberg. Rio Gibson is both crazy and unpredictable, and we all know it,” Sebastian said in a snarky tone. “We’ll be lucky if she isn’t calling the daytime talk shows by lunchtime. The grieving widow bullshit gets huge ratings. The networks will be all over this.”

Red. I actually saw a red haze over everything after hearing those words come from my best friend’s mouth. “Grieving. Widow. Bullshit?” I stared at him in utter disbelief. I knew the man could be heartless, but this was so over the line.

“Bas, what about Abbigail?” Yeah, I just went there. And I’d do it again without hesitation if it meant reining his shit back in.

“What about her?” he clipped carelessly.

“Sean was her brother,” I reminded.

“And?”

“And you just said he was basically murdered. You think that’s going to sit well with her?”

“No, I don’t. Not at all. But she’s not a little whackjob like her sister-in-law.”

It was taking every bit of inner strength I had to not leap across the furniture separating us and knock him on his ass. Apparently sensing this, Banks rounded Shark’s desk and came around to physically restrain me if necessary.

“Listen to me, motherfucker,” I seethed. “You know damn well that I care about that woman. She’s my friend. It’s in your best interest to stop with the comments about her mental health, or you’re going to be eating my fist. It’s the only warning I’m going to give you, asshole.”

I lasered my stare right at him and let the silence that filled the room punctuate just how serious I was. I had a very clear memory of our fistfight over Abbigail in this very office because I did something very similar. I wasn’t above turning the tables and going to the mat with the bastard again.

Only this time, I’d be fighting for Rio.

“Is that right?” Sebastian was on his feet by the time Elijah was between us, ready to defend himself if need be.

Elijah held his arms out wide, as if he were Moses parting the Red Sea. “All right, you two. That’s enough. Let’s use our big boy words. Every time she comes in here, Pia still grumbles about the last fight you two apes had and all the stuff you broke.”

Bas flopped back down into his leather desk chair and planted his elbows on the armrests. He rocked back and forth a few times, aggressively testing the limits of the seat’s springs.

Walking over to the bar, I asked, “Who needs a drink besides me?”

They both held up a hand, so I poured three glasses of whatever whiskey Sebastian had in the crystal decanter on the counter and came back over to distribute the liquor. “So what were you two looking at when I walked in?”

Elijah, having gone back around to the far side of the desk, slammed back his drink and set the empty glass down on the low bookcase. He made very pointed eye contact with me before saying, “We were looking at video surveillance of the construction site from the night of Gibson’s accident.”

I froze with my glass halfway to my lips and asked, “You mean of the accident itself?”

“No. After the site was shut down and everyone was sent home for the day,” Sebastian said, not taking his eyes from the monitor.

Shit. I already had a bad feeling about where this was headed, but I needed to keep cool and play along. “Uhhh, what am I missing? Are you thinking someone broke into the site and stole something? Did the police find evidence that leads you to believe that happened?”

Finally, Sebastian sat back from his computer and took a sip from his glass. Then he looked at me for a long time before he asked, “Remind me, Grant, where did you find Rio that night? When no one else could find her?” He tilted his head to the side slightly, giving the whole line of questioning an air of condescension. I swore I could feel my heart rate rise in direct proportion with my ire, but I tried desperately to keep it in check as he continued. “I seem to recall you were the one that texted Abbigail and told her Rio was safe.”

“She showed up at my condo,” I said as nonchalantly as possible through clenched teeth. On the night in question, after Elijah went to the construction site and cleaned up after Rio and me, we all agreed this would be the most believable story in case we were ever questioned. “What does any of this matter? I’m still not following you, man.”

“Well, here’s the thing…” He got up and strolled over to the windows, sipping leisurely on his whiskey as he went. The sun had long since set, and the downtown skyline was aglow with neon and manmade stars. “Evidence was collected on the scene that is consistent with a fire having burned there.”

“I was there the very next day. I didn’t see anything that looked damaged. Burned or otherwise. The area was sectioned off with police tape, and that certainly didn’t look melted. What is making them think there was a fire?” I was starting to get agitated, and Elijah gave me another stern look. Since Bas had gone over to his usual window “thinking spot,” we hung back and sat on the sofas.

Keeping my voice very quiet, I asked him, “Are you one hundred percent positive that surveillance footage was scrubbed?”

“Yep. But if you don’t settle the fuck down, you’re going to hang yourself. You’re acting like a Muppet right now.”

I gripped the back of my neck. He was right, and I was trying my best, but I was freaking the fuck out. I’d promised Rio I would take care of everything. I’d told her I wouldn’t let anything happen to her for breaking down that night. Anyone would understand why she’d done what she had. Anyone with an ounce of compassion in their soul, at least.

“So Twombley. Tell me this, then.” Bas strolled closer to Elijah and me.

Shit, why wouldn’t he let up on this?