But more, he appeared like he was going to say something before his head ticked, his gaze on me warmed, his mouth grew soft, and he stared at me for a full five seconds like he was a doting boyfriend and I was his doted-upon girlfriend.

This caused havoc on my insides, and I was grateful to him for finally speaking because it meant I had something else to focus on.

“I’m gonna wire you, Evie, so I can not only see what’s goin’ down but hear it.”

“I don’t think—”

He interrupted me.

“Babe, let me look after you.”

It was then what was happening, what he was intent on doing, and clearly intent on doing thoroughly, fully dawned on me.

And it felt like something had come up from his cement floors and clamped on my feet, rooting me to the spot as I stared up at him.

No one…

Not ever…

In my life…

Had looked after me.

No one.

“Now, I’m not bein’ fresh,” he said, “but I need to reach up your shirt and position this.” He gestured with the microphone. “I get it in place, you hold it there, we’ll tape it and stow the transmitter. You got your shirt untucked at the back, your blazer on, he’ll never see. Yeah?”

I nodded slowly.

“Untuck the front of your tee, Evie,” he ordered.

I did as told.

And, man.

You had to hand it to him.

He ducked his hand under my shirt fast. He then slid the microphone under the clasp at the front of my bra fast as well. And he did all of this staring right into my eyes, his gaze attentive, his manner efficient.

“Hold that, babe,” he murmured.

I lifted a hand and held the microphone in position over my T-shirt.

He pulled his hand out, reached for some tape, ripped off a small piece and then ducked back in.

I took my hand away, Mag kept hold of my eyes as he smoothed the tape over the wire in a practiced manner that took only a few seconds, then his hand was gone.

He gave me the transmitter.

“Hook that to your belt at the back. Turn it on. Cover it with your shirt. I’m gonna go into my room, close the door. We’ll test here and we’ll test again at the location. You’ll switch that on prior to turning into the parking lot. If he’s watching you, I don’t want him to see you anywhere, in or out of your car, reaching to your back. With me?”

I nodded again.

“Turn it on, hook it to your jeans, and go to Mo’s old room.” He indicated a door behind me that was closed.

He then strapped on a minimal, wireless headset that wrapped around the back of his head that did not make him look like my ex when he had his headset on while he was gaming.

Something I thought was cute, at first.

Way not cute later.

On Mag, it was just hot.

“Go, honey,” he ordered gently.

I switched on the transmitter, hooked it on my waistband at the back and headed to Mo’s old room.

Behind the closed door, feeling kinda like an idiot, but still trying to make a joke (which, yes, would mean making him laugh, gah!) I said, “Testing, testing. Sibilance. Sibilance.”

I then stood there, definitely like an idiot, because I was hoping I was transmitting, but I had no idea if I was, because I couldn’t receive.

Did I open the door to call out and say I’d transmitted?

Apparently not.

For the door opened and Mag, with his jacket on and his hand still on the knob, swung his torso in.

“We’re a go,” he declared. “Let’s bounce. I’ll lead you to safe parking where you can hang while I do a drive-by of the locale. I’ll text when it’s good for you to go in.”

I dropped my eyes to my chili-red Rothy’s and started walking his way, saying, “Okay.”

“Evie.”

I stopped and looked up to him to see he had not moved.

“I got you covered,” he assured.

He had me covered.

Man.

I nodded.

Then I blurted, “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. It wasn’t you, or John Wick. It’s just…I keep odd hours and I don’t get many chances to sleep.”

“Don’t think about it another second,” he said softly.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Let’s get this done,” he murmured.

I took in a deep breath, let it go, and nodded again.

As I sat in a fully lit parking lot of a Burger King on Colfax, I was rethinking my relationship with my brother.

I truly did not believe that Mick would ever do anything that would put me into danger.

Except, I felt in danger.

And the question had to be asked.

Did one make someone they loved feel something like that?

My phone sounded and I jumped so bad, where I hit my back earlier on the counter stung and the dull pain in my forehead thrummed.

The screen declared the call was from Mag.

I picked it up and engaged.

“Okay, I’m having second thoughts,” I said as greeting.

Mag said nothing.

“You don’t know my brother,” I told him. “And I can understand, considering the current situation, which is highly unusual for a first date, or any date, though that might just be my experience. You’re a commando. You use the word ‘mission’ when speaking of your employment. Perhaps this isn’t out of the ordinary for you. But for me, it is. And I can get why you might not think well of my brother considering what we’re currently doing.”

“Evan—”

“But he’s a good guy. We…” I decided not to get into the whole sad story and adjusted my stream of blathering. “He’s messed up but he’s a good guy, but…I just…” My voice dipped. “I don’t wanna be here, Danny.”

He finally spoke and he did it gently.

“Baby, it’s not me who wanted to do this. You wanna bag, I’m down.”

“He was scared,” I blurted. “In lockup. During our visit. He’s always cocky. But he wasn’t cocky. He was scared.”

Mag hesitated a moment before he said, “This is your call, Evie. I’m with you either way. I’m in position, and from the minute you turn in, I’ll have eyes on you and whatever happens, if you need me, I can get to you fast. Or I can bug out. Totally your decision.”

“What if…if I don’t do this and something bad happens to Mick?”

Mag’s hesitation was a lot longer that time.

And then he spoke.

“I’ve known you five hours, Evan. I do not know your brother. I got no foundation in this. No position to defend. But from my standpoint, as it is, it hasn’t changed from the beginning. Whatever he got himself into, honey, it’s not up to you to get him out. It’s his. He has to own it and that includes owning the consequences.”

“But he’s my brother.”

Mag said nothing.

So, I prompted, “Danny?”

“Fuck,” I heard him mutter.

“What?” I asked.

“I’d do anything for my brothers,” he said, and even over the phone, I could tell he didn’t want to say it.

Fuck was right.

I straightened my spine, felt a tinge again where I hit it earlier, but ignored it and stated, “Okay, let’s just get this done.”