“That would be preferable, yes,” Chuck said, mimicking Lucius’s precise tones.Before Lucius could pout, Chuck said, loud enough to be heard, “Don’t worry about the check, darlin’, I’ll pay on my way out.I’ll call you, ’kay?”
Lucius cocked his head and gave Chuck a “you asshole” glare from heavily mascaraed—and admittedly mysterious—hazel eyes, and Chuck winked and trotted out of the restaurant, making sure to pay in cash on his way.
Three hours later, Lucius was on the rooftop lounge of his and Chuck’s carefully chosen hotel, his own earwig catching the chatter between Chuck, Hunter, and Michael as they, each on their own ship on the way to Kadjic’s new gunrunning center, decided on the specific form of sabotage for each engine room.
The boats—hastily gathered by Kadjic’s crew to make up for the debacle in early January that had put a decent-sized dent in his operation—were a mismatched fleet of junkers if Lucius had ever seen one.But they represented three cargo holds full of high-profile deadly weapons, and ifthosebad boys could sink, and the cargo on the island could be destroyed, Kadjic’s gunrunning would be permanently underwater.
Lucius listened, resisting the urge to gnaw on his cuticles until they bled, until he heard Michael and Chuck say, in tandem, “Say the word and we can set a five-minute fuse.”
Then Hunter said, “Fuck it.I’m using the C-4.”
“Just like I told you,” Chuck murmured.
“Shut up, Chuck,” Hunter said.“Give me three more minutes.”
In Lucius’s head—and only in Lucius’s head—Danny’s voice said softly, “Operation Rembrandt complete, signature engaged.How’re we doing?”
“Three to five min—” Lucius began, and then, on his screen, one of the three dots he was following disappeared.Far out on the horizon, a ball of flame could be seen erupting from somewhere on the wickedly blue ocean.
“Lucius?”Danny asked.
“Come on,” Lucius muttered, and he heard a cacophony of voices.“Hunter?Michael?Chuck?Who the fuck was that?Hunter!Are you there!Michael?Fuck-fuck-fuck.Chuck!”
And then, cold as iced steel, came Carl’s voice.“Hunter’s fine.Michael, Chuck, blow your loads.Nobody laughs.Not a soul.”
“Exiting now!”Chuck and Michael called, and the next two minutes were full of panting breaths and chaos as, presumably, Chuck and Michael hauled ass up to the deck of the two cargo freighters and lunged off their respective starboard sides.
“Lucius!”Danny demanded.
“I’m waiting!”Lucius gasped, suddenly aware that he’d been holding his breath.“One of the ships went early!”
Another moment of hoarded oxygen, and then Carl said, “Lucius, I’ve got them.Sorry—I got wind on another channel that Hunter had been made.I sort of blew a hole in his ship before they could converge on him while he was installing the C-4.”
“Hunter?”Lucius said in surprise.
“I’m fine,” Hunter grumbled.“Carl, it’s official.We’re brothers.Paperwork’s in the mail.”
Michael’s breathless laughter could be heard.“You guys—always underestimating him, I swear.”
And then Chuck’s own coughing and sputtering.“Well, he is the best-looking blond of the lot of us.”
“I’ll carry that compliment to my grave,” Carl said dryly.“Okay, now that I’ve used one of my RPGs, does anybody have an idea how to blow the guns on the island up?”
Chuck cackled, presumably rifling through the supplies Carl had been loading up on his small cabin cruiser as the others had been infiltrating the cargo ships.
“Don’t worry, brother,” he said happily.“We’re in my wheelhouse now.”
“Lucius?”Danny enquired delicately.
“Fine,” Lucius said, feeling faint.“They’re fine.They’re on to stage two.It’s fine.It’s fine.It’s all good.”
“How are you doing?”Danny asked, his voice kind.
“I finally understand,” Lucius said in wonder.
“What?”
“Why Molly’s so dead set against boob sweat.”
