“You’re late,” Bishop says immediately.
Gage blows out a breath that’s not quite a laugh. “I was following orders.”
The way he says it—flat, edged—tells all of us he means Coco, not Bishop. Which is exactly why Bishop’s jaw clenches.
“Fine.” Bishop folds his arms. “We need a job. So what’ve you got?”
Gage’s gaze sweeps the room. Bishop pacing. Cruz half-soaked and lounging. Me in the corner, tapping my ring, pretending not to care.
He rubs his palms together once, like he’s bracing himself. “A problem.”
That’s the first interesting thing anyone’s said all day.
I nudge the chip bag aside, attention sharpening. “What kind of problem?”
Gage exhales, shoulders dropping a fraction. “I was doing recon for a job idea I have.”
“Yeah, about that,” Bishop cuts in, stepping closer. “Why the fuck are you doing recon on an idea? That’s not how we do things around here.”
Gage’s mouth pulls into a cold half-smile. “You wanted ideas, didn’t you? I’m not bringing half-assed shit to the table.”Like the yacht job,he seems to say.
Bishop snorts. “So, what’s the problem? Your idea’s shit?”
Cruz winces like he’s watching a fight about to break out in slow motion. But I know for a fact they’re not close to that point yet.
Gage’s jaw goes tight. “Nah. My idea’s solid.”
“Then out with it,” Bishop says, folding his arms, a smug smirk on his face.
I love my brother, but fuck me, sometimes he’s asking for it. And one day, Gage is gonna take him up on the taunt. Hard to say who will come out on top in that fight, especially if Cruz and I aren’t around to break it up.
Gage looks at Cruz. Then at me. Then back to Bishop.
“Simple,” he says. “I followed Bellamy.”
The air in the garage grows thick.
Cruz rocks forward on the balls of his feet.
My pulse hits once, hard, like someone flicked a switch inside me.
Bishop freezes mid-pace, eyes widening a fraction before narrowing to slits. He tilts his head slightly, like a predator recalculating.
“You followed her how?” Cruz asks, eyes sharp now instead of casual.
Gage’s gaze flashes to me, and I realize what’s happening. He’s waiting. Feeling me out to see if I’ll say it.
If I tell them about the other night—him slipping out of the dining room while dessert plates were still warm, me following him into the garage. Watching him open the drawerwhere I keep my toys. Trackers, bugs, lock tools, and other miscellaneous things that ride the line of legality. The way he held one up between two fingers and just looked at me.
No words, just mutual understanding.
Curiosity gnawed at me all night, mean enough that I wanted to see what my brother had in store for the little blonde surprise.
I keep my mouth shut.
Gage looks away, back to Bishop. “I put a tracker on her car.”
Bishop’s mouth actually falls open for a beat. Then snaps shut. “You didwhat?Why the fuck would you?—”
