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“Who?”
“Ethan Hunt? Mission Impossible?”
“Is that a movie?”
Everett’s jaw drops.
“Laina Katarina Maria Genovia America Milenna, you’ve never heard of Mission Impossible? How?”
I shake my head, grinning at how personally offended Everett is. About two years ago, he found out I had two middle names (Annalisa Freya) and thought it was absurdly comical. So when he’s making a point, he strings together as many words ending in “A” as he can.
“Okay, well, now you have to watch it, because that’s basically what we’re doing right now. A quest with a MacGuffin.”
“A McMuffin?”
“A MacGuffin, an arbitrary thing that we’re after, the thing that will complete the mission. Like in The Pelican Brief.”
“The Pelican-”
A scathing look from Everett cuts me off. I don’t dare admit I’ve never seen that either. Who knows how many more names he can come up with.
“I’ll just open the safe,” I mutter.
Family safe, social security number, false bottom, wait for instructions. I’m anxious for this to be over, to get Dad back, for all this tension and danger to dissolve.
I step forward, rub my palm on my pants, and hold it out. Right as I’m about to press down on the screen, Everett grabs my hand, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. He opens his mouth and pauses, like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words.
“You okay?” I ask.
He bites the bottom corner of his lip and exhales a shaky breath while staring down at me. I meet his questioning look with one of my own. I’m not that much shorter than him, but I always seem very small compared to his imposing, powerful stature. He lets go of my hand and I straighten my shoulders not backing down from his stare.
Then he has the nerve to run his thumb over his bottom lip and I’m mesmerized. All reasonable thoughts are gone as I watch him trace his lip.
“This is not going to go the way you think it’s going to go. If the dossier is in there, that means all your dad said is true and that means there will definitely be complications somewhere along the way.”
I don’t hear a word he says. All I can think about is how those lips felt pressed against my skin.
“Hey,” he says, getting my attention. I instantly blush. “What are you thinking about right now?”
“What are you thinking about?” I retort like a six-year-old.
He quirks an eyebrow at me, then shakes his head.
“I’m wondering if I can talk you out of this.”
“No, this is important and necessary. I do this, I get my dad back. And that’s the purely selfish reason.”
“What are your other reasons?”
“Because my dad asked me to. It’s important to him. And it was important to your dad too. And it’s important to all the victims of the Vidovic Group. Ev, there are so many suffering people out there who need our help. I mean, ultimately, it’s important to the whole world.”
“Laina, is it more important than you dying?”
I wave off his concern. “My dad said there’s no imminent threat to me. He made it sound like I’d be flying under the radar.”
Everett reels back. “What?” he practically yells. “He said you’d be flying under the radar?”
Am I remembering Dad’s words correctly? He made it seem like it was a little dangerous, sure, but not deathly dangerous. Yeah, flying-under-the-radar dangerous is about right. But Everett takes my hesitation as a bluff and he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, all his muscles flexing. Uh-oh, this is his pissed-off look. His eyes flash with anger and he leans forward, enunciating every word.
