Page 13 of Ride With Me
“Says the man who’s managed to avoid prison all these years without so much as a cop glancing your fucking way.”
“That’s different,” I mutter. “I’m running because I have to in order to keep going. He’s running because he can. Money is my problem and city noise is his.” We are not the same. Life has probably always been handed to him while I’ve always had to work hard to get what I need.”
“I guess you have a point there. Look, if you want to go back, we can. It’s not too late to turn this car around.”
I shake my head, taking in all the empty fields and the lone house resting on a hill behind a sea of trees. “No, we’ve already come all this way, and I’m looking forward to that steak dinner.”
CHAPTER 2
RILEY
The floors creakbeneath my feet as I enter the house and step around the glass from the shattered window. The lock was like nothing I’ve worked with before, so I had to get in another way. Brick was wrong, and he never is. Did he confuse these locks for someone else’s? Smashing a rock through the glass door felt like a good idea at the time until shards of glass went through my finger, piercing my gloves.
Wincing, I hold my hand to my chest, and quickly rush to the kitchen when I spot a roll of napkins tucked under a cabinet. With deep breaths and the gloves off, I yank the glass from my finger above the sink and turn the water on, allowing it to run over the deep cut until clear. I shut off the tap and use the napkin to apply pressure when my finger starts bleeding again, because dripping my DNA all over the place is the last thing I want to do. I’d hate to leave behind evidence for whatever cops Mr. Good Doctor decides to call long after I’m gone.
Once the napkin is secured around my finger, I head for the office, spotting a large, crooked picture frame on the wall behind an oak desk. Not a spot of dust on anything I pass. Everything’s so clean and tidy. It’s what makes the off-centered painting soeasy to spot. No other wall decor and no family portraits in the living room either.
I slide on a new pair of gloves and check all the drawers. One is locked, and I jimmy it with one of my tools until the drawer pops open. A gun rests at the top and I lift it in the air, the sunlight from the large window causing it to shine. I shove it in my bag, along with an old Rolex watch and random collectors’ coins that look like they’re worth something. After closing the drawers, I search the rest of the room, not finding anything but an obscene number of navy-blue blazers in the closet. Would it hurt him to wear another color now and again?
Laughing at the thought, I move back to the weird painting of a cabin in the woods. Eerie as it might be, I can’t stop looking at it—how the bright flowers pop against the muted tones. Seconds later, I have the painting off the wall and a stethoscope placed in my ears with the chest piece pressed next to the lock. Due to missing the second number as I turn the dial left to right, it takes me longer to crack it open, only to find a bunch of files and a stack of two-dollar bills. The fuck? Who goes to all the trouble of having a safe when they aren’t going to use it for more than sixty dollars and a bunch of paper?
I leave my duffle open after shoving the money inside, close the safe and place the painting back on the wall how I found it. I enjoy the way the crooked frame adds character to the room and how, like me, it doesn’t look like it belongs. So out of place and standing out like bright yellow stars splashing the dark night sky.
Moving quickly, I rush through the hallway and find the bedroom. I grab everything valuable I can find—all the jewelry, change from an ancient-looking piggy bank, an iPad from the nightstand, a Kindle e-reader under the pillow. He’s a late-night reader like me. What else does he like doing when noone is watching? Not sure why I’m wondering when normally I couldn’t care less about the people I steal from.
Then again, other houses I’ve broken into have told me more about the people who lived in them than his one has. He’s this hidden mystery in a place he’s allowed to be himself. An array of suits hangs in the bedroom closet next to designer ties and cashmere sweaters. Looking at the time on my phone, I know I’ve been here too long and swiftly clear off the hangers. Tossing the sweaters into the duffel, I reach for some shiny gold cufflinks and a small metal lock box hiding behind a rack of shoes. Smiling, I add it to my collection and exit the closet. Ten first-edition books, four unopened bottles of aged wine, and a laptop later, I text Brick.
Me: Coming out.
No response comes as I’m emptying the kitchen drawers of sterling flatware. Zipping up my backpack, I exit the front of the house and pause when I find Brick is missing. What the fuck? I check behind the house, wandering up and down the driveway. Brick doesn’t answer any of my messages and doesn’t answer the phone until the fourth call.
“Riley.”
“Where are you? Why would you leave?”
“I’m really sorry things have to be this way. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I saw this as the only way.”
“Only way for what?” I grind out.
“We both did.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Me and Stephen. We’ve been seeing each other for weeks now and knew how you’d get if he tried to leave. This was the best option.”
“But you’re my best friend. Why would you do this to me? We grew up together. It was you and me way before he came along.” Did surviving foster care together for ten awful years mean nothing to him? We’d had each other’s backs whenever foster parents got too handsy or violent. When the other kids tried to steal our shit or start fights.
“I know.” He blows out a breath. “But you always got everything you wanted while I got your scraps. I’m sick of it and will no longer live in your shadow. I will no longer be your damn errand boy.”
“But we’re brothers. You’re my only family.”
“Cut the shit.” He releases a nervous laugh. “All you ever cared about was yourself. Even Stephen agrees. If I were you, I’d find somewhere to hide before the cops show up.”
Sirens blare in the background and I nearly drop my phone.
“You set me up.”
“I guess I’ll be the one to enjoy that champagne and steak with your boyfriend now.”