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The tone in his voice told me to turn around cautiously.

I scanned the busy lounge, unsure of what had him on alert. “Who’re you looking at?”

Ellis straightened himself. “The guy in the gray fleece hoodie. I’ve seen him before—this week, but I can’t place it.” My brother cursed under his breath.

I watched the man. He had broad shoulders and short hair, and blended into the crowd with his uniform of sweatshirt, jeans, and Chuck Taylor sneakers. But I could tell from his posture that he knew how to handle himself, and also that he was carrying concealed.

“Fuck,” I said, unceremoniously, making the women jump.

“What is it?” Hannah asked.

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I took her hand and squeezed it. “Nothing you need to worry about. I got you.”

“We’re being followed.” Ellis moved slightly, putting his body a fraction in front of Fiona in case he had to shield her. “Don’t get upset. He doesn’t know we’ve seen him. We’re just going to sit here and eat like we planned. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to shoot us—he’s just doing surveillance.”

I whipped out my phone. “I’ll text Brian and have him do a full check outside to make sure there’s no one else.”

As I tapped out the urgent message, Hannah shuddered and Fiona went pale.

“Don’t worry. Wes and I will take care of him.” Ellis kept his voice low, soothing.

I kept Hannah close as my brother and I briefly locked his gazes, silently acknowledging the situation. We were both armed. Mr. Gray Hoodie didn’t know we’d made him, and we could use that to our advantage.

We would use that to our advantage. I knew how my brother operated, back from when we were growing up. Whether it was hide-and-seek, a “friendly” game of neighborhood football, or capture the flag, Ellis and I were an unstoppable team, demolishing the other kids with our commitment and fierce determination to win.

Most of the time, the other kids quit or went home crying. Or both. Weenies.

“So, just act normal?” Fiona asked.

Ellis smiled again, clearly trying to keep things on an even keel. “Normal sounds good.”

Fiona nodded, looking resigned. But she ordered wine when the server came.

My phone buzzed a minute later. “Brian said the lot’s clear. He called for backups.”

The muscle in Ellis’s jaw jumped. “Perfect. We’ll be ready.”

“What does that mean?” Hannah scowled. “Wes isn’t ready for a fight—he’s on restricted duty.”

She made it sound like I should be kept in a bubble.

“I’m fine.” I squeezed her hand again. “And there’s no way I’m letting anyone near you, babe. Not ever again. So don’t fight me on this.”

Hannah bit her lip, but sensing my urgency, said nothing.

Then she waved down our server and ordered wine, too.

Adrenaline thrummed through my body as we went through the motions of a sociable lunch. Ellis appeared relaxed and normal, actually leading the conversation at the table. He told Hannah and Fiona stories about our family, perking up as he went along.

His eyes sparkled as he told them about our favorite family pet, Moose the dog. “He used to howl every time this commercial for a certain doll came on. This big lug of a dog, howling over a little blonde doll with curls. Hysterical.”

He cleaned his plate as he talked.

He never stopped scanning the room.

He ordered a chocolate bento box for dessert and ate that, too.

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