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He stops.

The line must go dead, because Ray goes still with the phone at his ear. For a second, he doesn’t move. Then he lowers it slowly and looks at the screen like Whitmore might call back and apologize.

He doesn’t.

“Well,” Ray says, voice flat. “He’s pissed.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Who does he think he is?” Ray says, so calmly the hair at the back of my neck lifts. His hand stays on the phone, fingers resting over the screen. “Prick thinks he can hang up on me?”

“He just did.”

Ray’s gaze snaps back to mine. That was probably not helpful.

A long second passes.

Then his mouth curls. “When your arm’s right, you’ll go give him a slap from me. Tell him to mind his manners.”

I’d happily give him more than a slap.

Ray’s gaze lingers on me for another beat, then slides away. “Got my invitation from Dean Carter, by the way.”

Here we go.

“I’m not going,” he says flatly. “But Dean made a generous offer to take you off my hands.”

My jaw tightens.

“Normally, I’d tell him to fuck off.” Ray leans back, watching me. “But right now, you’re not much use to me.”

“Nice.”

“You want me to lie?” His mouth barely moves. “Your shoulder’s fucked. Your hand’s worse. Dean will compensate me for the surgeries, he’ll cover anything that comes after, and you’ll go play casino cop for a while.”

“When you’re fixed,” he continues, “you come back where you belong.”

Part of me wants to tell him to shove it up his ass on principle. The smarter part stays quiet. Because this might actually help me. It gets me away from Ray for a while. Gives me breathing room to sort things with Carmen. To tell her the truth before someone else does. And once her divorce is done, Maverick loses the leverage. Her being with me won’t cost her anything. Ray can run his mouth, Maverick can throw a fit, but they can’t use it against her.

If Carmen still wants me after she knows everything, then it’s no one’s business.

“Fine,” I say. “But I’m not wearing a fucking suit.”

Ray’s mouth curves, almost fond. “Good boy.”

I turn for the door.

“Levi.”

I pause, fingers tightening on the handle.

“Blackwood hasn’t called you?”

My grip hardens. “Why the fuck would he call me?” I say flatly. “You sent me to shoot him, remember?”

Ray rubs a hand over his bald head. “It wasn’t personal.”

I glance back at him.