Chapter FiveDISCOMFORT AND A NUMBING sense of regret followed Dante all the way into New York City, along the bearable late-night traffic in the heart of Manhattan, while he looked for parking, and then up the elevator, right up to his door. He threw down his duffle and started searching through his pockets for his keys.
Dante swore as he wasted long minutes trying to find his misplaced keys. Just as he was standing up to unlock the damned door, it was pulled open and a weary Chris glared at him.
“Oh, it’s you,” Chris said, sighing in relief.
Paul’s grinning face popped from behind the door. He was holding a baseball bat Dante had bought for his father and planned to mail it to him for his birthday.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” Dante zipped up his bag and carried it inside, drop
