"Everything is in place," Atticus says, his voice deep and gravelly. "We move in tonight, and once we have it, we'll head straight for the airstrip. The plan is to fly out by dawn and be back on American soil before lunchtime Wednesday."
I violently shake my shampoo bottle, squeezing out the last few drops onto my palm before chucking the bottle out of the shower. "How do you know Ambrose won't get to it first?"
"Are you in the shower?"
"Well, I have to turn the fucking thing on, so I might as well get some use out of it."
He clears his throat.
"Ambrose can't crack a safe like Sev can, he'll wait until it's being moved, which won't happen until tomorrow, at which point he'll be too late."
"So you've got it all figured out."
I use my nails to scrub my scalp and curse when a bit of shampoo gets into my eye.
"Aurora?"
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
I rinse my eyes under the stream of water and sigh. "It's this one professor. I think he has it out for me. He gave me a failing grade on a perfectly good essay and basically fucking attacked me for half of the day's lecture. Actually, I think you and he would get along."
"Real funny. Which prof?"
"ProfessorRyan," I say, and realize I sound like a whining toddler. "But whatever. It's not like it matters."
"It doesn't," Atticus confirms, and for some reason, that pisses me off more.
"Do you need anything else?"
"Do you have anything to report?"
"Nope. Same shit. Two unmarked SUVs. One still trails me to campus, but they've stopped trailing me when I walk Ellie, so that's progress."
"Noted. Also, what were you doing at the laundromat last night?"
I'm glad he can't see my face as I give myself a few seconds to preen and feel immediately a little better at the reminder of my extracurricular activities last evening.
"Spilled coffee all over my bedding," I lie. "What, am I not allowed to use the laundromat when you guys aren't there?"
"No, it's just—never mind. I thought you might've needed something and wondered why you didn't ask."
"Don't worry, Atty, I didn't touch your things."
…not anything important, anyway.
He grunts. "Fine, then we'll hear from you again tomorrow by eight a.m. We should be in the air by then."
"Atticus," I blurt before he can hang up, "are Seven and Elijah close by?"
"No, they're getting some things ready."
"All right, well, tell them to be careful."
There's a pause on the other end, and I realize I've told him to tellthemto be careful. I could correct my mistake. Tell him they should allbe careful, but I can't seem to make myself say the words. Besides, I know that of them all, Daddicus will be themostcareful. He doesn't need my warning.
"I'll tell them," he replies in a cold monotone.
