I kiss his temple. “You’re welcome. Now, pop quiz: What’s the one damn thing you don’t want with a cancer diagnosis?”
DB takes this question, popping his cane. “Rapid cell generation.”
“Exactly. It might interest you to know that the first thing I do when a new member of the team joins us,” I say, looking at Ronan, “is check their personal and family histories for cancer. If you’ve had either, I’m only giving you this if your life is in immediate danger.”
Thane scratches his beard, then adds, “So a pair of gross human specimens who’ve made a name for themselves with their cancer diagnoses…”
“Wouldn’t last very long.”
Jake holds up his finger, then types out a staccato on his laptop. Less than a minute later, he shares his screen on the TV. It shows the couple in question sitting in a lovely room with greenery and candles.
“They frequently post pictures of themselves receiving various vitamin infusions at their favorite spa. It’d be a damn shame if the contents of that bag were to be replaced with something less beneficial.”
“Indeed,” I say. That’s perfect actually.
“Won’t it look suspicious when they both have virulent relapses?” Odd asks, looking at the screen.
I shake my head. “The cancers don’t grow or spread in the same way. The one who had the bone cancer will die pretty quickly, but the singer might not even get diagnosed until after his husband is dead.”
Ronan laughs. “I don’t know if this makes you a genius or a sociopath.”
I shrug. “The tests were inconclusive.”
DB drums his fingers on the table, then makes his decision. “Guess we just need to figure out who wants a spa day.”
Rafi sits on Everett’s lap and raises his hand. “I volunteer us as tribute.”
Everett rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest.
DB looks at me. “Wow, Anders. You actually simplified an op.”
“Must be that magic peen,” Rafi says, laughing at me.
Omar threads his fingers behind his head and leans back, proud of himself while everyone laughs.
I throw my hands up. “Wait, wait, wait. Rafi can be inappropriate, but I can’t?”
Everett puts a possessive arm around him. “It’s because he’s so cute and sweet.”
Omar piles on. “He also never set my car on fire.”
My mouth drops open. “Traitor! That wasone time! And you totally got a brand-new, fully paid Range Rover, courtesy of the fine folks out in Wimberley.”
Odd pats me on the back. “Brother, might as well give up now. You’re never gonna win this argument.”
I cross my arms over my chest and let out a disgruntled huff of air.
Assholes, the lot of them.
Fine. I gesture for DB to get a move on.
He leads the team in a discussion about the pros and cons of the plan, and Parker asks several great questions about the logistics of switching out the bags and ensuring that these two get an effective enough dose. We chat through the entire play, soup to nuts, and take a vote. Our unanimous decision sets the op in motion.
* * *
Now that the business of killing people is out of the way, Omar and I take off to his apartment. As soon as his keys skitter across the hallway table, I have him up against the wall.
“So, this is payback, is it?” he asks, not the least bit concerned by my answer.
