Because the truth was, it was unforgivable. The lives he’d taken, especially after the attack, had been wrong. It wasn’t something everyone could live with. Tristan couldn’t. Mateo knew that. Mateo may hate it, but he could live with himself. That said something about the kind of man he was. Two of that kind of man would mess up the balance.

Tristan didn’t reply, but his hand kept moving, kept rubbing up and down Mateo’s chest and abs.

“Whatever you fuckin’ want done, I’ll do. Whatever you need from me, I’ll give. Whatever makes shit easier for you or us, or whatever you think is good for me, I’ll trust you, Tristan. But I fucking need this. I need it. I can’t let you do it. I love you too much. I love you both too much, and it’ll fuck us up.”

The wait was a fucking eternity before Tristan spoke again. His hand never stopped moving. He never stopped holding Mateo. It was a sacrifice for both of them, Mateo got that. Teo himself was sacrificing the life he wanted for himself, sacrificing the blood he fought to keep off his hands. Tristan was sacrificing what he believed he needed to do to be worthy of them. Sacrificing what he saw as his way not to fail them.

“I’ll call it off,” he finally muttered.

For the first time since Mateo found out, he felt like he could breathe. “Are we in danger? Do you know somethin’ I need to know?”

Another long pause. “We’re not in danger that I know of. There’ve been some murders. A lot of your old gang members.”

Yeah, he’d heard about that, too. It wouldn’t touch them, though. Mateo wouldn’t let it.

He eased away from Tristan enough to turn around. He kneeled between his lover’s legs, put a finger under Tristan’s strong jaw, and tilted his head up. It was his turn to run things a little bit. “Te amo, mi pieza perdida. Say it back. I want you to tell me you love me.”

Tristan got a half-grin on his face. “How would someone say ‘our guardian angel’ in Spanish?”

Dios, this man was going to fucking kill him. Spanish. Angel. He had never been that for anyone. Mateo was Los Deminos. Demon. Not an angel. But he wanted to be. For them, he wanted to be their guardian angel. “Nuestro angel guardian, is ‘our guardian angel’. My guardian angel would be, Mi angel guardian.”

“I love you, nuestro angel guardian.”

There was nothing he wanted more than to be just that for them.

Mateo captured Tristan’s mouth. He owned the kiss, showing the man how much his words meant to Mateo. Tasting him in a way it had been much too long since he’d done. His cock went hard. His body started to overheat. He wanted to fuck Tristan right here, to own him in the middle of the office that he spent so much time in.

But they needed Josiah, needed to fix what they’d fucked up. Needed their man home so they could all fuck and love each other, all night long.

“Do you know where he is?” Mateo asked.

Tristan looked at him like that was a stupid fucking question, which he guessed it was. “Yes. I made sure I found out as soon as we got home. Let’s go get him.”

Before either of them could move, Mateo’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It was late, after midnight, so his pulse started going crazy when the phone rang.

Josiah.

“What is it, mi precioso. What happened?”

“It’s gone,” Josiah whispered. “There was a fire. The coffeehouse is gone.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Josiah

Josiah tried to find the relief he usually felt when he saw Mateo and Tristan walk up together. Find the comfort he’d had when he broke away from the officer to walk into their arms, but it was just out of reach.

Tristan and Mateo. He’d just kept telling the officers he needed to call Tristan and Mateo. Now that they were here, now that he thought about everything they’d been doing, he realized his mistake.

They shouldn’t have been together when he called.

They shouldn’t have come together tonight.

But they had.

“What was the cause of the fire?”

Even from a distance, Josiah could hear that Tristan struggled to keep control of his anger. Even through the overbearing static in his ears, the buzz that he couldn’t quiet, he could tell Tristan fought to maintain his composure. Yet just like the comfort, going to Tristan felt just out of reach. He couldn’t make himself move from where he leaned against Tristan’s car, wrapped in a blanket.

“Com’ere.” Teo folded an arm around him, tried to pull Josiah closer. Still he couldn’t manage to move.