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Clair cuts in before it turns into a full fight. “I mean . . . it worked, didn’t it?”

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye.

This playful side of her is becoming addictive. A little dry. A little feral. Eyes bright.

I wonder how she would be if I got her alone and gave her every reason to aim that look at me.

No.

Later.

Much later.

A smirk still finds its way onto my face.

Lyla smiles right along with me and bows to Clair. “Thank you.”

I tap the hood once.

Hard.

All eyes are on me as I shake my head.

Joanie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, plot twist.”

Lyla turns slowly toward me. “Excuse me?”

I point at her, then at Jacob. “Neither of you are planning it.”

Trish’s grin widens as she translates.

Jacob’s smile comes back immediately. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? Slower? Maybe louder?”

I flip him off.

Mom presses her lips together like she’s trying very hard not to laugh.

Clair makes a small sound beside me. Not quite a laugh. Close enough to make my brain go stupid.

Lyla plants both hands on her hips. “And why exactly am I being removed from command of my cannibal heist?”

I sign before either of them can argue, and Trish translates again. “ ‘We need fuel. Not payback. Not justice. Fuel. Fast. Quiet. Clean.’ ”

The humor fades with every word.

Good.

A heist sounds fun. A heist sounds like Joanie in sunglasses and Lyla blowing something up because someone told her not to. A heist gets people excited enough to forget what we’re stealing for.

This is not fun.

This is not revenge.

This is the only way I see to get our people out of Chicago.

I tap the circled mall on the map.

Then I point to myself. “ ‘I’ll plan it. You’ll both help.’ ”