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“Oh—uh, yeah, man,” he replies, sounding surprised and relieved that I’m talking to him again.

“His phone goes to Quillan. Wallet too. Vehicle gets stripped before disposal. Nothing identifying remains in this building.”

“I know.”

I’m still finishing up at the sink, so I let my silence do the talking instead of my usual glare.

After about thirty seconds, he tries again. “I mean, yes. Yes, sir. I’ve got it.”

“Good.”

I pull on a fresh glove, flexing my fingers twice to make sure the material has seated properly.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, undoubtedly the man I need to report to.

I answer on speaker. “It’s done.”

“I assumed.” Mathias’s voice fills the cold, empty space of the warehouse. “So Trevor is…?”

A low grunt leaves my throat. “Dead, yes.”

“And Kenny?”

“Unfortunately not.”

A tiny sound of protest comes from behind me.

Mathias chuckles quietly. “We’ll find something he can be useful at. You can’t kill my little cousin every time he fucks up.”

“Why not?” I know the answer, but I like the choked gasp it brings from the idiot at the door.

Mathias lets out an amused breath, then tells me, “Come by the office.”

“I was planning to go home.”

“So was I.”

“Then go.”

“I have something for you.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tonight.”

I stop drying the edge of my sleeve.

Mathias is not a man who repeats himself because he enjoys the sound of his own authority. That particular trait belonged to his father.

When Mathias says tonight, he has a reason.

“Alright,” I say finally. “I’ll be there.”

“Bring coffee,” he instructs before disconnecting.

Kenny watches me cautiously as I start for the door. “Everything good? What did he want?”

“If he wanted you to know,” I say without breaking stride, “he would have called you.”