Skip:Pizza obtained. Bones found knives. Can’t pull him away. May need to sedate him.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
Of course, Bones found knives.
Beside me, Maverick glances at his phone.
No smile.
No reaction.
He pockets it like it contained nothing more interesting than the weather.
I don’t know how he does that.
Even I almost cracked at Skip’s stupidity.
“I’m impressed,” Maverick says calmly. “The craftsmanship is acceptable. Once I see the long-range weapons perform, we’ll discuss numbers.”
Clinton beams. “Excellent. My boss will be pleased.”
“Where will we meet for the second half?” Maverick asks.
Clinton grins like he’s already secured the deal.
“I was thinking of bringing the live feed to your estate. That massive screen in your library would make quite the presentation.”
“Who will you be bringing?” Maverick asks mildly. “I do not allow unfamiliar men within my walls without being thoroughly investigated.”
“Oh, just me,” Clinton replies quickly. “My boss and I are the only ones who control distribution.”
“Surely your boss would want to attend,” I say lazily. “Seems like the Don should negotiate with the man in charge. Not the errand boy. Wouldn’t you agree?”
His jaw tightens…I hit a sore spot.
I don’t bother hiding the smirk.
“He’s busy,” Clinton says stiffly. “Martello plans to meet personally once terms are finalized.”
Maverick nods once.
“Six o’clock,” he says simply, turning toward the door without waiting for acknowledgment.
Meeting dismissed.
Clinton calls after us, something about logistics and confirmation.
Maverick doesn’t respond as Spike and I follow him out.
Once we’re inside the armored car and the doors seal shut, the calm mask slips from his face.
Not with panic…but concern.
“I’m worried about this demonstration,” he admits quietly.
“Surely his targets are just that,” I say. “Steel plates. Dummies. Not people.”
Maverick stares out the tinted window.
