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“It was a bad extraction. When you called—we’d just finished up. I came straight here on the next flight out. Should’ve decompressed before it.” Dante’s tone was clipped, and some of his accent bled through. It betrayed his exhaustion. “But then I figured you might want to shoot me in the back again, so I thought I’d stop in.”

Dante’d flown over twenty-four hours to get here, dropping everything the second the phone call was made. Saint raised an eyebrow.

Dante started to turn, looking over his shoulder. “There, I’ll even make it easy for you.”

Saint didn’t so much as twitch. Dante’s self-hatred was too familiar to indulge with attention. “You done?”

Something violent flashed in Dante’s dark eyes, and then it was gone. The smug arrogance hid a different kind of monster than Saint’s, but night knew night.

Dante jerked a quick nod and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Yes, sir.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was something like relief under it.

“Wheeler and Aaron are at the loft.”

None of them did well with isolation, Dante especially. And he’d travelled alone. Left the Blackteeth wherever they’d been.

To Saint’s surprise, Dante jerked a nod. “I’ll come by,” he said, shaking his head to clear it.

“You can’t stay.”

Dante stilled. “At your place or in town?”

Saint forced himself to relax more as his skin prickled. “Ideally neither. Cooper knows it was you.”

“That was the whole point.”

“This had nothing to do with favours owed, then.” Saint swallowed the cold rage that had been simmering all day.

“Two birds, one stone.” Dante started collecting gear, ducking under hanging wires.

“I forgot what an asshole you are,” Saint said with a sigh. But he came through. He always did.

“Retirement sounds nice.”

Saint rolled his eyes. “It was.” For about five seconds.

Dante grabbed a small black duffle, and Saint waited while he secured the bunker. They walked to Saint’s truck and drove to the loft in silence, but it wasn’t ringing with unspoken violence like it had been. Saint parked in his spot.

“Aaron was pretty pissed. You made a lot of waves.”

Dante shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

He got out of the truck and slung his bag over his shoulder. He looked up at the shop before he slammed the passenger door shut.

Saint rubbed his forehead and let out a deep sigh.

It didn’t matter. Gio was gone. Riley was safe.

He’d deal with the consequences later.

The truck beeped as it locked, and he twisted open the shop door.

“You actually did it.” Dante stopped at the threshold and looked around the dark shop. “Made a life here, like we said we were going to.”

Saint didn’t answer and went upstairs.

Chapter 40

Riley