“Or dead.”
“I want the metal checked before we meet the buyer,” Spike orders.
Bones nods immediately. “Already planned on it. We’ll weigh them, run a magnet, and shave the stress points.”
“I want more than that,” I add. “Tap test. Heat one of the slides and see how it reacts. If it warps or sings wrong, I want to know now…not after it’s in someone else’s hands.”
Spike’s jaw tightens. “If a supplier cut corners, then they’re trying to make us the problem.”
“You think someone wants us to start a war with the buyer?” I ask.
“If the guns are bad quality,” Spike nods. “Yeah.”
I exhale slowly. “This buyer isn’t even connected to us,” I remind them.
“That’s not entirely true,” Maverick says as he steps into the warehouse. “What’s going on?”
I glance at him. “How’s Abigail?”
“Fiery,” his mouth quirks. “The twins showed up.”
My lips twitch despite myself.
“She’s not thrilled,” he adds, amused. “Your woman can be… sassy.”
“What did she do?” I ask, already bracing.
“She’s measuring my cousins,” Maverick says, clearly enjoying this, “so she can order mannequins in their exact size.”
Spike blinks. “Why?”
“Something about if she has to deal with two silent humanoids in her personal space,” Maverick says, “then she’sat least going to make them dress the part. In her words…‘Mannequins will make it easier to pin your outfits together. However, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stand still and let me use your body as the pincushion instead.’”
Skip laughs.
I don’t.
My only thought is, why is she making clothes for the twins when she hasn’t made a single thing for me?
Sure, I’ve never asked.
But now I want her to.
Desperately.
And preferably before the twins.
“Anyway,” Maverick says, dragging us back to reality. “Your buyer is actually one of my underlings. You’re selling to the Moretti Italian Mafia.”
I shake my head, forcing my focus back where it belongs.
“You’re our buyer?” Skip asks from the floor, where he’s running basic metal tests on a sniper rifle. “Why do you need this many guns?”
Maverick laughs and shakes his head. “You lot really do forget who I am sometimes. Italian Mafia…remember? What do you think we need them for?”
“Right,” Skip chuckles.
“Since everything went down with Los Fantasmas,” Spike says, “your secret identity isn’t much of a secret anymore.”
