Page 34 of Anarchy Missing

“She’s trying to set us up.” Thomas glares at me.

“She won’t get far,” I say. “They don’t know what we did. They might think they know, but they don’t know.”

“They’re not who we should be worried about and you know that. Whoever pulled off that heist is the person we need to take care of.”

“But that’s not her.”

“It’s got something to do with her.” He’s looking at me like he can’t believe I’m not worried about this.

My hands are sweating profusely inside my gloves. I decided this morning I need to start wearing them regularly. Just in case. I want to take them off but it scares me. Every time they do this I think they’ll be glowing red. Like Lincoln’s. And even though every time I look at them to check, they aren’t, there’s always a first time and I don’t want that time to be now.

“You’re going to make contact with her.” He waits for my objection, but I’ve already decided to hear him out, just to appear like I’m thinking it over like normal. So I don’t object. “You’re going to press her for information, see what they have, and we’ll take it from there. Do that by tomorrow night, then meet us out at Linc’s house and we’ll discuss.”

“No,” I say.

“Which part of that is a no?” Thomas asks calmly.

“The part where I make contact. I don’t want to make contact. It’s not a good idea.”

“I don’t care what you want, brother. I only care about the plan. And if we can’t see this thing through to the end, then what the fuck have we been doing for the past fifteen years?”

“We don’t need her. We can just get Lincoln to hack into the offices and take what they have.”

“She’s involved somehow,” Thomas says.

“Peripherally,” I counter. “She’s nothing. She’s not that kind of girl, Thomas. I guarantee that if she’s involved, she doesn’t realize it.”

“Which is why you need to explain it to her, get her on our side, and then we can take it from there.”

I glare at him. “Then you do it.”

“I don’t know her.”

“Neither do I.”

Thomas sighs. “Case, this is not negotiable. Nothing is negotiable. You signed up, we’re all committed, and now you need to do your part—”

“I don’t want to fucking see her again,” I growl. “What part of that don’t you get?”

He folds his hands in his lap and leans back in his chair. A signal that says, I’m listening. Talk.

And even though Thomas Brooks is the last guy I want to talk with about my feelings, he’s all I’ve got. So I say, “I loved her, OK? I loved her, she walked away from me, and I never quite got over that. I can’t see her again, Thomas. Not like this.”

He squints his eyes at me. “Not like what?”

I envision myself telling him everything in the silence that ensues. About the heat, and the pain, and the knife, and the blood.

And the blackouts.

But then I envision his reaction and stop myself.

“Not in the middle of the job,” I say instead.

Thomas sighs again. It’s long and heavy. Filled with stress and exhaustion. “I could help you with that,” he finally says.

I know what he’s talking about, but I have to shake my head and blink at him to make sure I heard him right.

“It’s just temporary,” he continues. “But enough to get you through a few meetings with her. It’ll wear off in a couple days. A week, maybe.”