“If it happens,” Sean cuts in, “and it won’t, and we wouldn’t be in this fucked up position,” he looks between us, “if you two would have told me.”
“You want to chime in here anytime, Dom?” Tyler snaps.
“Rules of war 101, bro. Know your enemy and his weaknesses,” I relay to Sean as I set the bar down and lift, wiping my face with my shirt before taking a long drink of water. Looking up, I return Tyler’s unwavering stare. “The mouse is already in the trap, man. Not much we can do.”
“Oh, I can think of something. Many somethings. It’s not too late to—”
“Watch your stream, man,” I warn him, temper flaring that I have to remind him of the why we can’t call France. “Now you’re pissing on me. Your objection is noted, but, like Sean said, we’ve already worked it out.”
Tyler jerks his head in refusal. “Our window is closing to rectify this. Do I need to point out that one wrong move will fuck us to the point of no return?”
“The fact that we have to defend ourselves to you right now is bullshit,” Sean spits, snapping his Zippo closed before pointing his lit smoke toward him. “I’m cut from the same cloth and wear the same ink. I know how far back this goes because when you were doing push-ups and yelling ‘hoo-fucking-rah,’ I was out on these streets getting our game together. And don’t think I didn’t see you licking your chops the minute you saw her.”
Lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, Sean picks up my dumbbells and begins to do bicep curls. “I know how to separate business and pussy, and I’ve proven myself more than once on that front.”
Tyler calls him out on his utter ridiculousness as he does reps with smoke billowing from his mouth. “Need a cheeseburger to go with that heart attack?”
Dropping the dumbbells, Sean takes a deep drag of his cigarette before puffing rings toward Tyler as he issues more warning. “These circumstances are different, and you know it.”
“They aren’t,” Sean argues, “as long as I treat this like they aren’t, it’s business as usual. And while we’re on the subject of pussy, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here when I say you’re in desperate need, brother.”
This time Tyler postures up. “Fuck you.”
“I know it’s been a while since you’ve truly mingled with the fairer sex, so I’ll clue you in,” Sean cups his hands over his nipples in demonstration, “someone a little more petite in stature, fuller hips.”
Irritated with the pointless back and forth, I cut my gaze at Tyler. “She’s a fucking mouse.”
Tyler rears on me. “That mouse is attached to a fucking mountain lion.”
Sean steps forward to grab Tyler’s focus. “You think I’m going to let anything or anyone stand in the way of a decade of planning?” He blows out a breath of frustration as he spotlights the twenty-ton elephant in the yard. “You think I would do France dirty? We’re handling it.”
“Doesn’t seem like you’re the one handling shit,” Tyler asserts, not budging an inch.
“It’s better this way,” I shrug. “Plans change. We adapt. You know I’m not known for my sparkle. Just let pretty boy here do the heavy lifting with her, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“That may be the way you run your fucking sex life, but it’s not the way to manage this.”
Sean’s eyes bulge at the low blow meant for me and inches toward Tyler, forever the voice of reason. “That was fucking wrong on so many levels, man. You’re completely out of line. You need to start seeing this the way we do—as an opportunity.”
Tyler pounces. “You think I’m fucking stupid? I see how you look at her, and it’s been days. You’re no more in control than she is.”
Sean’s eyes flare in warning. “You’re really saying this to me?”
Tyler glares between us, his fear tangible. It’s clear then that he thought I would reconsider and call France. I can see him mentally sifting scenarios before stepping back and running a hand through his lengthening hair. Eventually, his expression shifts into one of resignation. “Only for you two. But I swear to God, when this goes south, and it will, you both owe me, and I will collect.” He glances down at me. “Sorry, man.”
I don’t bother to reply because I’m too caught up in the fact that Tyler’s blatant dig didn’t sting as much as it should have, and that instills a sort of fear in me. Have I detached so much from basic human emotion that I’m becoming immune?
Sean’s eyes alight, happy with his victory. He rests a crooked elbow on Tyler’s shoulder, fingering the shell of his ear. “Now, go fix me some eggs. I find you a lot sexier in the kitchen. And if you play your cards right, I may be willing to take one for the team.”
Tyler attempts to shrug him off, a whisper of a smile lifting his lips. “Fuck yourself, mutt.”
Sean hooks a forearm around his neck, pulling him in, and Tyler’s nostrils flare. “Jesus, you reek.”
They both start off toward the back of the house, and Sean glances back at me, giving an exaggerated slow wink as Tyler grits out, “Get. The. Fuck. Off. Of. Me.”
“Come on, baby . . . just the tip,” Sean coos before they round the corner out of sight.
It’s my first genuine smile in a week.
The setting sun lights fire to the sky, soaking my surroundings in an apocalyptic-looking orange hue as Sean pulls up. He steps out of his Nova in his Horner Tech uniform, using his night shift scheduled lunch hour to deal with our latest setback. Offering him the blunt as he approaches, he takes it as we stand between our cars in the gravel lot in anticipation of Tyler’s delivery.
The bay door opens behind us, and seconds later, Russell pulls our newly wrapped Fleet Heating and Air van out of the bay. Jeremy rides shotgun, dressed in his matching uniform, a giddy grin splitting his face.
“Despite some hiccups, that right there is a beautiful thing,” Sean muses.
Jeremy and Russell lift their chins to us as they pass with their marching orders for tomorrow—a collection mission to help pay the bills.
“Can’t argue there,” I say, watching them pull off.
Years ago, we set up several LLCs for all types of inked technicians to make service calls to scope out locations for future heists. Not only has it helped us micro plan robbing our targets, but it also legitimized the businesses with service calls to avoid the LLCs being suspect once we move in. Since we’ve pulled the trigger on one of our first brain children, our warehouse is rapidly filling—so much so it’s close to the time for a donation.
Sean passes the joint back interrupting my thoughts while bringing me back to the matter at hand. “What’s your call on Fatty?”
“You already know the answer to that,” I exhale, pissed Fatty is even an issue. Years ago, when I agreed to let him take part in our secrets, I had one reservation. Being privileged, Fatty never had enough skin in the game.
Sean shakes his head in disappointment. “Damn, man, he’s been good for business. You know he’s loyal. Not to mention he gets the best smoke,” he says, taking said smoke back.