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He nods. “Which is why we set it for Monday. There’s a whole team set up around it. Guys who’ll listen to the exchange on the wire, other guys who will go in as backup if things turn too sour too fast. Ideally I could get him threatening me or something else incriminating on tape, and then get out of there and let the Feds do their jobs.”
“So have them push the drop up to tomorrow?” Stone suggests.
Ian’s already shaking his head. “They can’t get me the money before then.”
Stone curses under his breath.
“So, what? You’re supposed to go in tomorrow with the wire and tell him you don’t have it?” I demand.
Ian shrugs a shoulder, attempting a weak half-smile. “He’ll threaten me, so there’s that. If we can get that on recording…”
I shake my head. “No. No way. This guy could kill you, Ian.”
“I’ll have people listening on the other end,” he says.
“What about a backup team? To go in if you get taken or if things go to shit, like you said?”
Ian hesitates a split second too long.
“No,” I’m already saying. “No way. You cannot go in there without a whole freaking army of FBI people behind you. I won’t let you. They got you into this so they need to figure out how to get you out.”
“It’s not your choice, Skye,” my brother responds, suddenly looking way too old for his age. His face lined with worry. “You’re wrapped up in this now. Whatever I do, I have to think about keeping you safe.”
I scowl. “Bullshit. Forget the FBI, forget this deal. Let’s both go. Now. Today.” I glance back and forth from Ian to Stone. “If we leave now, we can be out of town before Rich knows a thing.”
“With what money, Skye?” Ian shakes his head. “I’ve got hardly anything saved, after I bought my apartment. And we can’t get the cash box from yours.”
My cheeks flush at this reminder. I have shit for credit, and I’ve never trusted banks to begin with, so I keep anything I manage to save from my tips in a jar hidden in the floorboards beneath my bed. It seemed like a good idea until now. “We’ll figure something out. You have a credit card.”
“A traceable piece of plastic,” my brother points out sarcastically. “Considering we’d be running from both Rich and the FBI, I’d say that’s a shit idea.”
I scowl at him. “Well, we can’t just sit here. We need to come up with a plan. Some way for you to…” To not walk into a death trap tomorrow, is what I’m thinking. I choke those words down. Saying them aloud feels like it would make them too possible. And that is not a possibility—I won’t let it be.
“I want to help,” Stone says, startling us both. We stare at him. He shrugs a shoulder, seeming uncomfortable, and he won’t meet my eye. “I’m going to help,” he continues. “I know a little bit about the Revel. Been in there a few times to meet Rich. At the very least, I can play lookout for you. Go back to Rich tonight, tell him I’ve got Skye hidden safely away, and offer to help him set up for tomorrow. At least you’ll have an eye on the inside, then. And some backup, even if it’s not an army.” Stone shoots me a faint, halfhearted smile at that.
Ian is already nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, having someone on the inside would definitely help.”
“Hang on. Isn’t Rich going to want to know where you’re keeping me?” I raise an eyebrow at Stone.
“I’ll think of something. Talk around it.”
r /> “If he’s as dangerous as you say he is, will that be enough to convince him you’re still on his side?” Even as I ask it, Stone is looking away, avoiding meeting my gaze. Great. Well that answers that. “Stone, it’s not going to help either of you for you to both get yourselves killed.”
“Like I said, I’ll talk around it.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Call him now, then.”
My brother and Stone exchange a look, but I don’t care. I’m keeping them both alive, whether they like it or not. Because a plan has already started to form in the back of my mind.
I sit tight on the bench and watch Stone’s tensed back as he paces away from us, one ear pressed to his cell phone. I watch the muscles ripple beneath his T-shirt, and I want to run my hands over them, dig my nails into his skin, feel him do the same with mine as he claims he all over again.
I shake myself out of it and concentrate on his voice instead.
“It’s Stone,” he’s saying into the phone. Low, trying to hide the terseness in it from me.
The person on the other end, however—Rich, I assume—does not bother to do the same. I can hear the explosion from here. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Stone paces farther away from us without so much as a backwards glance. Ian tries to gesture at me to stay here, let him go, but I can’t. I’m already off my seat, trailing after him, listening hard.
