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Becca waited for the other shoe to drop. “Thanks?”
He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Then he pulled a twenty out of the fold and held it out to her. “No, thank you.”
She shook her head quickly. “I didn’t—you don’t have to pay me.”
“Sure I do. You worked, you get paid.”
“Take the cash!” called Gabriel. He’d found a basketball somewhere, and despite the fact that he’d been hauling eighty-pound bags for the better part of an hour, he was tossing it at the basket above the open garage door. “We’ll get a pizza.”
She blushed and faltered, surprised at the sudden camaraderie. “But—”
“Would you take the money?” Michael thrust it forward. “I’m late.”
“Fine.” She snatched it out of his fist.
He turned away to slide the clipboard onto the dash of the truck. “Come on, Nick.”
Nick was already climbing into the cab. He’d pulled a baseball hat onto his head, a red one with a logo that matched the one on the truck. “See you, Becca.”
Michael leaned out the window and looked at his brothers. “Stay out of trouble.”
Gabriel bounced the basketball off the side of the truck. Hard. “No promises.”
Michael actually looked like he was going to get out of the cab and go after him, but Nick grabbed his arm. “I have his keys. Let’s just go.”
Now Gabriel flung the ball at the truck. “Nicky, you suck.” But Michael was starting the diesel engine, and then they were pulling down the driveway.
She stood there for a moment, feeling awkward. She’d flown over here, ready for everything to fall apart at the seams. Finding them doing normal Saturday things left her thrown.
Chris was watching her; she could feel it. Just when she’d worked out how to get back in her car and pull down the driveway without looking like too much of an idiot, he said, “You hungry?”
She hesitated—and it was long enough for him to turn away, for her to realize he expected her to refuse.
“I am,” said Gabriel. He’d reclaimed the ball, and threw from halfway down the driveway for an easy three-pointer.
“Come on,” said Chris, and she wasn’t entirely certain he was talking to her. “Pizza sounds good. Let’s go inside and call.” He reached up and grabbed the garage door, giving it a yank to start it rolling.
Becca was still deliberating whether Chris had issued a real invitation—or whether he was just waiting for her to leave. So she didn’t pay attention to the stripes of red spray paint on the light blue of the wooden panels as they rolled, and she didn’t make out the pattern until the whole thing had slammed to the ground.
But there in the middle of the garage door, as tall as she was, sat a red pentagram.
CHAPTER 19
Becca couldn’t stop staring. “A pentagram.”
Gabriel whistled through his teeth. “Wow, brother, you do pick the Mensa candidates.”
Chris shot him a glare. “Shut up.”
Becca couldn’t even get offended—she was still staring at the garage door. This couldn’t be a coincidence. “But ... what does it mean?”
“It’s a warning,” said Chris.
“Wrong,” said Gabriel. “It’s a target.”
A target. She glanced between them. “I don’t understand.”
Chris came to stand beside her, staring at the door. He lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “It means they’ve called the Guides.” He hesitated. “Nick found it this morning. Michael doesn’t know.”
