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“Don't.”

Her head snaps toward me.

I catch myself.

Fuck.

“Not because I'm telling you what to do.”

One eyebrow raises. “That sounded remarkably like you telling me what to do.”

“Give me ten fucking seconds to finish.”

She pulls her hand back.

Progress.

“I call my cousin. A phone call from me isn't unusual.”

I look at her. “How often do you call him?”

“I don’t know. Every couple of weeks.”

“Exactly. That’s why you don't change anything.”

She frowns.

“If he texts you, answer him. If he sends you something, respond the way you normally would. But you don't suddenly call asking about a dead customer from three months ago.”

Her expression changes as she understands. “Because if Mercer's watching him⁠—”

“We don't want Smoke doing anything differently.”

Bishop cuts in. “We need to know whether the garage is being watched before we make contact.”

Callie looks at the phone. “See? He explains things nicely.”

I stare at her. “He just said the same fucking thing I did.”

“His tone was better.”

“My tone was fine.”

Bishop says, “It wasn't.”

My eyes narrow at the phone. Callie's smile spreads.

Jesus Christ. They’re ganging up on me.

“Where's Mercer?”

“Under observation. He’s in Blackridge.”

“And Smoke?”

“We're checking the garage.”

“Don't approach him.”