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Her head turns.

I keep my eyes on the road.

“Roman.”

“What?”

“I'm sitting three feet away from you.”

“I know.”

She sighs.

Bishop called an hour after Beck left. One of his people watched Smoke's garage most of the morning. No sign of Mercer. No unfamiliar vehicles sitting nearby. No one following Smoke when he left for lunch and returned twenty minutes later.

That doesn't mean no one's watching, though.

And Smoke may know why Mercer wants him.

Waiting isn't getting us anywhere.

So we're here. Together.

Because apparently telling Callie she's not coming when we're going to question her cousin is a battle even I'm smart enough not to start.

“Turn right up here,” she says.

“I know.”

“You've been here before?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“GPS.”

She looks at me. A smile slowly spreads across her face.

“No.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Don't.”

“Mapquest would've told you about the building that used to be on the corner.”

“Callie.”

“And who owned it.”

“Chaos.”

“And who owns it now.”

“I'm turning this truck around.”

She laughs.