Free The Billionaire's Allure (The Silver Cross Club Book 5) by Bec Linder Page A

holding my liquor is probably at the top of the list of the most useful.”
    “Do you remember that one night,” Beth said, picking up her own glass, “when we convinced Todd to buy us some forties with his fake ID, and you and Renzo both got so sick—”
    “And you spent the entire night alternately laughing at us and forcing us to drink water,” I said. “I remember.”
    “It was your own fault for drinking that much,” she said. “I tried to warn you.”
    “We were showing off,” I said. “Or I was, at least. Renzo—I think Renzo was just trying to get drunk.”
    She nodded. “That was right after he’d gotten that letter from his sister, remember? About how he shouldn’t try to come home. He was pretty depressed.”
    I remembered that letter all too well. It had sent Renzo into a tailspin that lasted more than a week. He disappeared for a few days and wouldn’t tell us where he had been, but he came back with bruises circling his wrists and a suspicious amount of cash in a crumpled envelope.
    God. Renzo. I had failed him in so many ways.
    “What’s your favorite memory of him?” I asked. I didn’t want to dwell on the sad parts any longer.
    She took another sip of wine, looking thoughtful. “When he found that ukelele in a dumpster,” she said after a few moments. “Remember that? And he made up new lyrics for all of those Disney songs—”
    “Christ. I had forgotten,” I said. “What was that one about the crab?”
    “It’s not about a crab, it’s sung by a crab,” she said. “ Under the Culvert . No, Inside the Culvert . He changed the lyrics.”
    “We can get higher, here where it’s drier,” I said.
    She laughed. “He was really into weed at that point, wasn’t he? Poor Renzo. We shouldn’t have let him smoke so much.”
    “I don’t think we could have stopped him,” I said, and she nodded, her face settling once again into sorrow.
    That wouldn’t do. I reached for her unconsciously, but checked the motion before I could touch her. She saw my hand move, though, and gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher. “What’s your favorite memory of him, then?” she asked. “You have to share, too.”
    “That’s easy,” I said. “When we were in Washington Square Park, and that student had brought her puppy—”
    “Oh, God, it was a corgi, too, wasn’t it?” Beth asked. “And Renzo fell completely in love with it—”
    “And we couldn’t get him to leave,” I said. “He would have taken that thing back to the shelter with him if the girl would have let him.”
    “He missed his dog,” Beth said. “I don’t know if you ever saw it, but he kept a picture of his dog in his backpack, and he would pull it out sometimes at night and look at it.”
    “I didn’t know that,” I said.
    “He didn’t want anyone to know, I don’t think,” she said. “I only saw him do it a few times, and it was because he thought I was already asleep.” She sighed and shook her head, then gave me a piercing look I felt right down to the marrow of my bones. “So what are you going to do now that you’ve found him?”
    Always sharp, my Beth. She could put the pieces together. I had searched for and found her, and now here she was in my living room. I had searched for and found—probably—Renzo. And now? “I’m planning to go look for him in person,” I said. “And I want you to go with me.”
    She inhaled sharply, then tried to mask her reaction by taking another sip of wine. “That isn’t a good idea.”
    “It’s a brilliant idea,” I said. “He might not talk to me, but he’ll definitely talk to you.”
    “Why wouldn’t he talk to you?” she asked.
    “The same reason you wouldn’t talk to me at first,” I said. “You took pity on me eventually, but I’m not sure Renzo would. He has far more testosterone than you do, for one thing—”
    “Hey,” she said.
    “—and he fights dirty. You’re offended that I think Renzo has more testosterone? I’m sorry. Let