“Says the boy who stayed in the world’s most disgusting restaurant.”
“Well, I made up for it in other ways.” I stand and Milo’s in my space now, my breasts brushing his chest. “Want me to remind you?” he asks.
Yes. No. I want to go. Get out of here. It would take so little for Milo to catch Griff. And Milo . . . poor Milo. I’m looking at him and my brain is brimming with all the possibilities of who’s been here.
And who’s here now. What the hell is Griff doing?
I grab Milo’s hand, tug him toward the door, but Milo shakes me loose, cups both hands around my face, and tilts my mouth toward his. “I’m very, very good at reminding you.”
His lips brush mine and I shiver.
“Sorry,” I manage as Milo lets me go. “I’m sorry.” My hand connects with the wall and I shrink into it. “Sorry, it’s just this place. I hated it here. Still do.”
“Then I’m sorry we had to come.”
Milo actually sounds like he’s sorry too and it cracks something in my chest. I don’t meet his eyes. The regret in his voice makes me feel worse.
“This is what we agreed, wasn’t it?” I ask. “I’m supposed to play along.”
“I want what’s best for you.”
Now he’s got me. My eyes swing to his. Stick.
Milo smiles. “And we’re clear here? Are you sure you looked around enough?”
“Yeah.” I grab Milo’s hand and pull him with me into the hall, away from the bedroom, away from Griff. “There’s nothing here for us.”
We find the computer setup in the kitchen and load everything into Hart’s car. I don’t know how much good it’s going to do us—the tower case is rigged with trip switches to destroy the hard drive if we tamper with it—but Hart keeps his promise anyway and drives us past my house. I don’t know what I was hoping for. To see Lily in the yard? To pass Bren driving by? I don’t get either of those things. The house looks like it always does: nicely mowed yard, closed-up garage. There’s a new flower wreath on the door and I can’t help wondering if Bren noticed the equally new nail hole in the mahogany wood. It was courtesy of Jason Baines, a hammer, and a dead rat.
The gesture was meant for me, a reminder of what happens to snitches, and now all I can think about is Griff and what Michael will do if he catches him.
Hart doesn’t slow as we drive past, but when our car reaches the corner, he nods toward a telephone repair truck parked at the curb. “Those are our guys.”
Our guys. Like I’m one of the team.
“It doesn’t look like much.” I twist in my seat, studying the panel van as we pass. “How do I know anyone’s in there?”
Not a team player comment, but it’s out there now and I’m not taking it back.
Hart’s teeth grind briefly together. “The same way you know if we get sideswiped again, I’ll haul your ass out of there.”
I turn around and tuck both hands under my legs. “Sorry.”
“I’ll get over it.”
“Stop worrying, Hart.” Milo’s voice is almost singsong. “No one knows she’s out—unless you haven’t been doing your job.”
Hart makes a right, turning us away from the neighborhood and toward the interstate. “We’ll switch the van before it gets too obvious. The security system has been upgraded and we have someone shadowing your sister at activities. We know what we’re doing.”
I slump a little lower, feeling stupid. “Right.”
“Better?”
“Yes.” But there’s a pang beneath my ribs and I can’t pry it apart. Is it from homesickness? Worry?
Or something else?
As Hart eases the town car onto the interstate, he outlines the plan for Joe’s house. Long story short? Now that they have the computer setup, they’re going to watch for anyone to return. It’s reasonable. In his place, I’d do the same thing, but honestly? It’s a waste of time.
“You won’t catch him,” I say at last. “That neighborhood has eyes even when it looks empty. There’s no way your car wasn’t noticed. There’s no way we weren’t spotted. It would be stupid for whoever was staying there to return.”
And somehow it doesn’t feel stupid. Why use Joe’s house to send the viruses? Why not some Wi-Fi hot spot? Why not somewhere less conspicuous? Honestly, the whole thing feels calculated.
Except the part with Griff. That part feels . . . off. Wrong. He didn’t know what I was talking about. He didn’t have a clue.
“Well,” Hart says, changing lanes. “It would also be stupid not to have someone there.”
I nod. “Yeah. True.”
It’s just after four when we reach the parking garage again. Hart swings into the space nearest the elevator and we all pile out, Milo following close on my heels.
“You seem off, Wick.” His fingers climb across my arm and I string up a smile.
“Sorry. Just tired.” I lean against the elevator wall and close my eyes. It’s kind of to prove my point and kind of because I can’t look at Milo for a second longer.