Page 125 of Heat Lightning

He chuckled softly. “I know. Sometimes I think that’s my fault. I couldn’t help but explode my emotions all over the place as a kid. I think he had to bottle up a lot to keep us both afloat.”

Threading my fingers through his, I squeezed his hand. “He smiles when Enzo is around.”

Atlas’ eyes crinkled. “You’d have to be crazy not to. But to answer your question, he specifically told me to not mess things up with his cook. I think he’d be very disappointed to not have you around anymore. But do you want to? What about your other dreams? Cooking for dinner parties and stuff?”

I shrugged. “I’m not anxious to start. I like the stability of working for Mr.—I mean, Saint—and I’d miss Enzo. Plus…” I peered at him. “I want to help you with your targets. The way Gwen does,” I clarified when his eyes grew comically wide in panic. “I’ll leave the action to you. But I want to be a part of it.”

Atlas blew out a breath. “You know it's not obligatory, right? I don’t need you to participate in that part of my life if you don’t want to.”

“I know. But I’m not the same person I was before we met, Atlas, and I don’t resent that anymore. I want this.”

He nodded shyly. “I’d like that.”

“Besides,” I said. “I’d want to save up more before I branched out, anyway. Starting my own business is terrifying.”

Atlas raised an eyebrow. “You know money isn’t a problem, right?”

My mouth opened and closed. Honestly, with everything that’d happened, I hadn’t even considered all the implications of Atlas being Saint’s brother, including the obvious wealth.

The gorgeous house he lived in spoke volumes alone. It was smaller and cozier, certainly, but well built and in a prime location. “Wait, how rich are you? Like, just as wealthy as Saint?”

He waved a hand. “I don’t pay much attention beyond the finances for the clinic and aquarium. Saint handles everything else. But… yes. I do have money. More than either of us will ever need. Whatever your dreams are, we can make them happen.”

I wasn’t sure what to do with that information, but the way he smiled at me, warm devotion written all over his face, buoyed me.

Wait. “Aquarium? You own that, too?”

A boyish smile stretched his face. “No, but I am a donor. I sponsored the new exhibits you mentioned a few days ago. I wanted to tell you right then.” He squeezed my hand again. “And I’d love nothing more than to show it to you. It’ll be our first real date. No murder involved.”

I snorted. This man thought he was only meant for darkness, and yet, he was the light that kept me company on my loneliest nights.

And now he wanted to take me on a date to the aquarium.

“I’d love that,” I said, misty-eyed.

Just then, lights flickered to life on a boat pulled up to Mr. Marino’s private dock. It was difficult to see clearly in the waning dusk, but two distinct silhouettes moved around on the deck, carrying several large bags. One of them appeared to be Saint, but I couldn’t place the other. It had to be Gwen, though, right?

And what was in all of those bags?

Then it dawned on me. “Oh my God,” I said, turning a bit queasy. “Is that… Joey? In the bags? In all the bags?”

Atlas grumbled. “I don’t usually care for the cleanup, but I would’ve liked to be involved in this one.”

“Was dismemberment necessary?” I asked, regretting my greasy lunch more and more by the second.

I definitely wouldn’t be involved in that aspect of helping Atlas.

With a smirk, he sat forward like he was watching a sporting match. “My brother quit hunting with me when Enzo was born. I always respected that, but I’m glad to see him back in the game. If you think I’m scary, he’s ruthless. I think it has to do with how we grew up, but there are certain things he can just shut off.” He snapped his fingers. “The dude is efficient and meticulous when it comes to body disposal. You should see his basement.”

My brow creased. “I have seen his basement. There’s nothing weird about it.” It was mostly a giant movie room, with reclining loungers, a wet bar, and a wall-sized projector screen. While it certainly wasn’t normal compared to most people’s basements, it didn’t look like it belonged to a guy who chopped people up.

Atlas shook his head. “No. There’s a basement under the basement. I’ll show you next time we’re over there. It’ll be fun.”

He was like a kid at Christmas. I laughed. “And what about you? Do you have a basement in your basement?”

“No, but I do have a whole room of fish tanks. Freshwater, saltwater, brackish. I’ve got it all. But there’s plenty of room for whatever you want to bring when you move in, I promise.”

“Oh, I’m moving in, am I? When did we decide that?” I asked, just because I’d said we were going to fight about something after he stopped dying, but I couldn’t remember what.