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SOS Callie freaked at the bike shop.
On way back.
Drop everything for a family meeting.
“Shit! Tex, cancel that intel job we just got,” I holler as soon as the message from Devon comes through on my phone. I knew taking Callie to look at bikes was a stupid idea! I warned him to be more careful with her, but as usual, he wouldn’t listen. He’s too damn hot headed and stubborn for his own good.
I hope Callie’s okay.
“What? Why?”
“Check your phone. They’re on their way back. Something happened and Callie freaked. Devon’s calling an emergency meeting.”
“Shit. Okay, I’ll call Branson and check if he can pick this one up for us. It’ll cost though.” He hesitates.
“I know. I’ll sort it.”
“But—”
“We can worry about that later. Just call him.” I don’t mean to snap at Tex, but the kid’s memory is flawless, and if he’s looking this worried about asking Baxter Branson for a favour then it means we’re running on empty. I thought we had accrued some with recent jobs, but obviously not enough.
It’s a few minutes before Tex reappears, his face grim.
“What? How bad is it?”
“He’ll do it, but it’ll cost us two favours.”
Shit. That’s too many, but what choice do we have? Baxter Branson is not someone you want to owe favours to. He always calls to collect, and it’s always bad when he does. He only has two settings: ruthless efficiency and absolute psychopath. He always calls us to help with the latter jobs. It’s a fucking bloodbath every time, and he enjoys it way too much. We never let Tex go on those jobs. There’s no way he could stomach it.
“I’ll manage it.”
“You can’t—”
“Tex! Just leave it with me. We’ll be fine. We’ve run out of favours, money, and resources before, and we’ve always been okay. Don’t worry about it.”
I wave away his worry, but inside I know I’m going to be facing more sleepless nights until I can fix this. We’re going to have to pull triple time on jobs at this rate just to pay off what we owe, and that won’t leave any time for hunting down Callie’s abductors.
I stress until they get home and switch out one anxiety for the next. Callie enters the flat looking pale and stricken.
“What happened?” I ask as soon as Devon comes in.
“Let’s sit. We need to talk.”
The fact that it’s Devon saying we have to talk puts me on high alert. Tex shoots me a significant look and disappears to the kitchen to get drinks.
He returns with a mug of tea for Callie and Devon scowls at him.
“Get the tequila.”
“We’re out,” Tex tells him.
“Then get the whiskey.”
“You drank all of that. And you didn’t share or replace it,” I point out.
“Fuck.”
“Maybe you guys should drink a little less,” Callie says quietly.
