Page 16 of Falcon’s Forever

I meet his stare. “Why would I argue?”

He lifts both hands in surrender, although the grin tugging at his mouth ruins the effect. “Just checking.”

“Keep checking,” I lean forward, holding his gaze, “and I’ll give you something to worry about.”

His grin only widens.

Sterling's already moving to the logistics. "Moving forward, security changes affecting the house get communicated before they happen unless it's an active threat, and if it is, Cara or whoever they pick as point of contact gets told immediately."

"No," I say, before I've fully thought it through. "That's too many steps. If we're giving them control over their own safety, they need direct access. A phone that stays at the house. Patrol leader messages them straight. Contractor arrives, they know. New brother on watch, they know."

Condor's already typing. "I can build that."

“Simple,” I tell Condor. “Not something that needs three passwords and a cybersecurity degree.”

He looks mildly offended. “My systems are intuitive.”

“Your coffee machine needs an app,” Zip points out.

Condor straightens in his chair. “That’s innovation.”

“That’s why nobody uses it.” Zip laughs.

A few quiet laughs circle the table before Vulture points a warning finger at Condor. “Simple.”

Condor mutters something beneath his breath but gives a reluctant nod.

Vulture turns his attention back to the rest of us. “Anything else on survivor support?”

Knox raises a hand from the end of the table, and I realize he's been quiet through most of Church, which usually means he's been listening harder than the rest of us. "Long-term housing. Cara thinks we need something between the compound and independent living."

"We've been looking at the house outside the city," Vulture says.

"She already knows, she asked," Knox says, when Sterling looks at him. "I told her."

Of course she asked. Cara's never once in her life stood still and let somebody else finish a thought she could finish herself. Pride catches me off guard, it’s strong enough that I have to look at the table instead of at anyone. Even after everything those men did to her, they didn't manage to take that away from her.

"That all came from Cara?" I ask.

"Most of it." Knox nods.

Vulture's watching me now, and I meet his eyes and don't look away. "I think she's right."

He nods once and moves us on to the rest of it, money, a disputed garage payment, two prospects due for review, a territorial issue west of the city. Ordinary business, and I stay in it, asking the questions that are mine to ask and leaving the rest where they belong. Nobody congratulates me for doing my job, which is exactly how it should be. When Vulture finally says that's it, chairs scrape back and the room breaks into motion, Harrier heading for the door with Vulture calling numbers after him like they're negotiating a hostage release, seven, six, five, until Harrier stops dead and says you're a dick and takes the seven.

Vulture catches me before I'm through the door. "You did good."

I hate how much three words can still do to me. "I did my job."

"Exactly." He starts stacking his folders, which means the conversation's over, and I get one step before he adds, without looking up, "You don't have to be fine."

"I’m pretty sure you just spent an hour telling me to act like I am."

"No." Calm as ever. "I told you to do your job, that’s not the same thing."

I don't have an answer for that, so I leave before he decides to get any more emotionally intelligent on me.

The common room's louder now, brothers are filtering out, and there’s music on somewhere. I scan the room out of habit before I can stop myself, and I see Cara's gone, and disappointment hits before I can talk myself out of it. She's got her own life here, her own work. She doesn't exist to sit outside Church waiting for me.