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“Damn right you did, sweetheart.”

The Sinners' safe house is modest.

One bedroom, a living room with a small kitchen along one wall, and enough security cameras outside to satisfy Grim.

Madison steps inside and looks around.

“No bodies?”

“Checked earlier.”

“You're very dedicated to this joke.”

“You started it.”

She smiles.

And there it is again.

That inconvenient feeling in my chest.

I show her the bedroom and bathroom, then return to the kitchen.

“Hungry?”

“What are my options?”

I open a cupboard.

“Soup. Beans. Something that might be chili.”

She peers over my shoulder.

“Do you know how to cook?”

“Sure.”

“From ingredients?”

“Now you're getting picky.”

Twenty minutes later, we're sitting at the small table with bowls of chili that came almost entirely from cans.

Madison takes a bite.

Chews thoughtfully.

“Well?” I ask.

“It's edible.”

“High praise.”

“Don't let it go to your head.”

I laugh.

It's been a long time since I've laughed this much with anyone outside the club.