Page 48

“I heard they were working with the Italians,” Wheeler responded, hitching his thumbs in his belt.

Aaron blinked. “That’s troubling,” he muttered and pulled his phone from his pocket.

Not my business. Saint didn’t look at who he was texting.

“I stay away from the Italians. And the Armenians. And the Vietnamese. We’re very well behaved. Toeing the line. As instructed,” Wheeler announced proudly.

“Would you like a gold star?” Aaron asked without looking up.

Wheeler’s grin widened. “If you’re offering, brother.”

Saint rolled his eyes, and Wheeler bumped his shoulder. “Come rescue princesses with me. It’s fun and pays well. Better than moving pot money.”

“How many princesses are going missing around here?”

Wheeler shrugged. “Not many. But kidnapping is still a viable income stream in a few places.” Dollar signs appeared in his eyes. “Dante’s making a killing on hostage extraction.”

Ice settled in Saint’s gut, and he refused to let his face move. Aaron glanced at him out of the corner of his eye but stayed silent.

“Alrighty then…” Wheeler muttered, face falling. “We’re still not over it, got it.”

“Why are the Italians moving now?” Saint asked, to keep them on topic.

Aaron turned sharp eyes on him. “Unclear. One of them is erratic and unpredictable, so my guess would be he’s driving it, but that’s not confirmed.”

“There are two?”

“Plus associates.”

Wheeler watched Saint. “So you do want to know…”

“I don’t. Just making conversation.”

“Right…”

Saint ignored him.

Aaron’s guesses were bang on nine times out of ten.

Cookie yawned behind them and Wheeler checked his watch. “I’m out. Saint, good luck with that girl. Hope she sticks around next time. If there is a next time. My advice? Orgasms. Lots of ’em.” He cackled as he got into his truck, slapping a hand on the door before he drove off. Country music blared and then faded down the road.

“I can’t believe he made it into our unit,” Aaron muttered.

Saint outright laughed. He’d had that thought many, many times, but you couldn’t really argue with a guy who could run up mountains with an eighty-pound pack and laughed while getting shot at.

Aaron disappeared into the weapons locker and returned moments later, hands in his pockets. Saint didn’t ask, and Aaron didn’t offer, nodding to him as he headed back to his fancy car parked down the road. He wouldn’t risk the paint job on the gravel.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Aaron waved and slid into the front seat.

“Same goes.” Saint waved and turned back to the stubborn engine.

Something had settled, but it wasn’t until his phone vibrated a bit later that he actually relaxed.

Riley: Hey, Kristi said to get over myself so here goes. Sorry for bailing the other morning. I really enjoyed everything else.

Saint: All good. Want to come by? I’m finishing up a bike but should be done in a bit.

Riley: Can I help? I’m pretty good at holding a flashlight.