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She closed her eyes and sat back, resting her head between his knees on the chair.
“Kristi thinking my boss is a criminal because I stupidly sent her evidence of it? Not really.”
“More about how you’re feeling. Seems like there’s a lot going on there.” He settled into the chair, cradling her head in both hands.
“Also no.” She tried to remember what the warm haze of earlier felt like.
He chuckled and returned to massaging her scalp. “You got it.”

It was well after midnight when Wheeler yawned and stretched his arms over his head, showing off a trail of blond hair down his stomach. Riley was curled up in the corner of the couch, absently petting the smooth leather. Kristi dragged her gaze off Wheeler too slowly, and Riley’s nail caught on the edge of the couch.
“Can we share an Uber?” Kristi asked. “Unless we’re staying here.” Her blue eyes bounced around the room, an edge to her smile.
We?
Saint stood with Aaron in the kitchen, their heads close together. His back was to Riley, white t-shirt taut across his shoulders. Kristi stood and threw her blazer over her shoulder, spiralling out from the couch, picking up and putting things back as she went.
“Who’s this?” Kristi stopped next to a bookshelf and picked up the photo Riley had looked at earlier. Saint, Aaron and Wheeler in fatigues, the fourth man dark-haired and foreboding.
Wheeler glanced over from the other end of the couch, and something flickered on his face. “Just someone we used to know.”
“What happened to him?” Kristi asked, still staring at the photo, hair curling around her face where it had escaped from her sleek ponytail.
“Kristi—” Riley said with a sharp look that Kristi missed.
Wheeler intercepted it, cheeks lifting in his easy smile. “It’s fine, doll, he’s not dead.”
“Some of us just wish he was,” Aaron said, directly behind her. Riley jerked, cold rolling down her arms. Wheeler barked a harsh laugh as he glanced over towards the kitchen where Saint cleared the counters. Aaron’s mouth flickered, his eyes dancing with black humour, but not the smile he’d been giving Kristi.
Kristi set the photo down. “Why? And who?” she asked Aaron as he stopped next to her. He looked at the photo over her shoulder. They fit together well, Aaron a few inches taller than Kristi’s five foot eight.
Riley’s mouth formed a thin line.
“King’s just busy. Saving princesses and toppling kingdoms.” Wheeler shared a knowing look with Aaron before he turned to her. Kristi’s cheeks flushed, and Riley didn’t think it was just from the whisky.
“You heading out?” Saint said beside Riley, and she jumped again.
“It’s rude to sneak up on people,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. Saint’s hand found hers.
“Come. Talk to me.”
He pulled her up and off the couch, straightening the flannel shirt she wore, and led her to the doorway. Following him down the stairs to the darkened shop was easier than it should have been. Riley gripped his hand tighter as each step brought her deeper into the inky blackness.
Kristi’s voice rose as she made a point over Wheeler’s boisterous laughter, and the arguing faded behind them.
At the bottom of the stairs, Riley turned towards Saint and tucked herself close as her eyes adjusted. Tools hung from the walls in straight lines, like a black and silver painting of negative space.
Heat started to slide around Riley, tension coiling as the sounds from above drifted farther away. The faint glow from the loft was the only source of light, making Saint’s cheekbones and jaw sharper.
He pushed the shirt Riley had wrapped herself in over her shoulders, exposing her neck and collarbones. He dragged a thumb over them, and shivers rolled down her spine in waves.
The darkness was close and comfortable. Wood blocked her small steps backward, and before she could move, Saint’s hands closed over her hips and boosted her onto a wooden surface, putting them at a similar height.
Her knees parted on their own, and he stepped in between them, nudging them wider.
“How are you feeling after earlier?” His voice was the deep bass she used to dance to.
