Page 82 of The Saint

Luca picked up on the first ring. “I saw the whole thing on the news.”

“He hanged himself before I got there. But I shot his face off.”

The news was audible in the background, like the TV was still on. “It’s done. All that matters.”

After the sight of Fleur’s face, it wasn’t enough. I’d planned to kill Ivan with my bare hands. Most organized crime and gangsworked against the government, not with them, so I had an unfair advantage in that respect. Without President Martin’s intervention, it would have been harder and longer to capture Ivan, to scare off his supporters once he felt our wrath. It was an asset, but right now, it felt like a pain in the ass.

I could have gotten to him on my own—if I’d had the opportunity.

“How is she?” I asked.

“She’s fine. Staring at me with puppy-dog eyes right now.”

“Bring her home. I’m on my way.”

“On it.”

“And stick around. I need to talk to you.”

Luca paused for a moment as he let the silence linger. “I knew this was coming…”

When I got home, Luca was downstairs waiting for me.

Fleur must have gone upstairs to give us a moment to talk.

He stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes guarded like he didn’t want to have this conversation.

I stared at him and tried to find the words, but maybe the words were unnecessary. He knew my intentions just by looking at me, seeing the heartbreak in my eyes. My life was forever changed by what had happened, and that didn’t need to be explained, not to Luca. “You’ve got this, man.”

He gave a quiet sigh as he directed his stare elsewhere.

“We knew this would happen eventually. And at least it’s not happening because I’m dead.”

“I know. Just won’t be the same.”

“We both know you’ve been after my job this whole time.” I forced a smile, trying to cheer him up, even though I needed to be cheered up myself.

He smiled too, but it was clearly forced. “You caught me.”

I shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

He offered a slight shrug.

“What will you do with the traitors?”

“Wait, you’re done, like, now?”

“Immediate retirement.”

“Jesus.” He gave a sigh. “Just got the job, man. Haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Power had been exchanged and the conversation had finished. But he stayed like he had more to say and didn’t know how to say it. “We’re still gonna go to Holybelly together on Sundays, right?”

I smirked. “Of course.”

“And we’re still gonna drink?”

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