“Bird,” she mouths at me, in English. She links her thumbs together and flaps her fingers like wings.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “You’re a bird now.”

As we fly over Lake Chad, my cell buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out, surprised I’m getting service up here.

I’m even more surprised to see Dante’s name on the screen. Last time he called me, I ended up shot in the side. It gave me one of my nastiest scars yet.

I pick up anyway, saying, “Deuce. You better not be calling me for another favor.”

“Well . . . ” Dante laughs.

Deuce never used to laugh much. I think he’s doing it more now that he got his girl back.

Speaking of girls . . .

“Let me guess,” I say. “You’re calling me ‘cause Riona wants my number. It’s alright—I understand. The chemistry between us was palpable.”

“Well, she didn’t throw her drink in your face, so I guess by the standards of your usual interactions with women, it went pretty well . . . ”

I snort. I only met Riona Griffin one time, but she made an impression on me. You don’t see a girl that gorgeous very often. The fact that she’s arrogant and uptight and hates my guts just adds a little spice to the mix.

“So what are you really calling about?” I ask Dante.

“It is about Riona,” he says. “But not how you’re thinking . . . ”

* * *

3

Riona

My brother Callum shows up at my building in less than ten minutes. He rescues me from the apartment belonging to the Greenwoods just in time. Mr. Greenwood is becoming increasingly insistent that we call the police. Mrs. Greenwood also seems impatient, either because she’s missing the end of The Bachelor, or because she’s noticed her husband’s eyes flitting over my bare legs several times. The striped bathroom towel the Greenwoods provided was made for their modest proportions and doesn’t cover much more of me than my swimsuit did.

When they open the door to Cal, my brother strides into the apartment with Dante Gallo following along behind him. The Greenwoods retreat back to their couch, not wanting to be anywhere near a man who can barely walk through their doorframe without turning sideways.

A wave of relief washes over me at the sight of my brother, who looks as cool and competent as always, and Dante, who could have ripped that fucking scuba diver in half with his bare hands if he would have been in the pool with me.

I almost want to hug them both. Almost. But I’m not quite that far gone.

“Thanks for coming,” I say instead.

Cal doesn’t stand on ceremony. He puts his arm around me and squeezes me against his side. I think becoming a dad has made him soft. But also, it feels nice. Comforting.

“We already cleared your apartment,” Cal says to me. “There’s nobody there.”