Lola steps forward, arms folded. “Funny how your attitude keeps piling up.”
Bishop shoots her a look, but Lola doesn’t flinch. She never has.
Rafe shifts against the wall, posture loose, attention anything but. “Gage says you’ve got eyes on Highlight Entertainment.”
Beckett moves like someone tugged an invisible string through his spine, shoulders squaring as he steps into the room. “Maybe we do,” he says. “Why do you care?”
Rafe shrugs, slow, easy, but there’s nothing relaxed in the way his eyes skim the three of us. “Because it’s not a small hit. Unless you only have three people.” He gestures, lazy on the surface, exact underneath. “One of you scouts, one goes inside, one drives. That’s a lot of wasted motion. A lot of time spent going back and forth.” He taps his finger against the wall. “And time is what gets people caught.”
Beckett bristles and takes a half-step forward. I lift a hand without looking at him, and he stops. Rafe’s not wrong, and I hate that more than I hate him saying it out loud.
“And let me guess, you’re offering yourselves as reinforcements,” I say, keeping my voice light.
“Seems like it,” Rafe drawls.
“Seems like,” Bishop cuts in, “Gage thinks you’re the golden ticket.” His voice is cold, edged. “Thinks you’ve got some grand plan worth hitching our entire crew to.”
Gage's nostrils flare slightly as he draws a slow breath, his jaw working beneath the skin like he's biting back words that might make things worse. “I didn’t say she had agrandplan?—”
“Yes, you did,” Bishop snaps. “You said she has the in.”
“Because she does,” Gage says.
Bishop's jaw tightens as Gage speaks, a muscle flickering beneath his skin. Rafe's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly at his brother, while Cruz shifts his weight, fingers drumming once against his thigh before going still. The air between them practically crackles, loaded with unspoken arguments and old grievances.
I narrow my eyes at him, letting my gaze bounce between brothers. Is this a bluff or does Gage actually know about Lola’s new friend, the delivery guy?
The silence thickens like fog, filling every corner of this too-perfect open concept kitchen-living room. We're all just standing here, sizing each other up in a space designed for magazine spreads, not standoffs.
Rafe’s attention slides back to me again, sharpening. “Do you?”
My pulse thuds once, low and steady, before I force my face into perfect neutrality. “Why? You looking to steal it?”
Rafe’s mouth curves. It’s not quite a smile, not quite a threat. “If I wanted to steal your job, Bellamy…” His voice dips, dark velvet and danger. “You wouldn’t see me coming.”
A shiver threads down my spine. Involuntary and irritating.
Lola steps closer to me, chin high. “I don’t hear a proposal, do you, Bells?”
“I think we should work Highlight together,” Gage says.
“So what are you saying exactly? Because we’re not stupid enough to rely on a Calloway driver while the three of us are inside,” Lola says, circling her index finger in the general direction of me and Beck.
“You think we’ll leave you,” Rafe says with a dip of his chin.
“You might. What’s stopping you from bailing and tipping off the cops the second you decide your cut isn’t big enough?” Lola asks, her brows high and her lips twisted with disapproval.
“Jesus,” Cruz mutters, “you think we’re amateurs?”
“I think you’re Calloways,” Lola fires back.
Gage drags a hand down his face, impatience roughening his voice. “We’re not screwing you over. That’s the whole point. We put everything on the table, we run the job together, and everyone gets paid. But we have to trust each other.”
Bishop’s humorless laugh cracks through the room. “Trust? We’re not even in agreement that we’re doing this job. And I sure as hell didn’t vote to take this meeting.”
“Oh?” I let my gaze travel from his clenched jaw down to his white-knuckled fists, then back up to meet those storm-cloud eyes, taking my time with each inch. “And yet you’re here.”
His eyes narrow on me.
