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“Riley will stay on the ground floor,” Logan says, tapping the screen. “She’s left-handed, so if it’s clear, we’ll keep our approach to this section of the warehouse so that she can maintain good visibility with the most likely drop site.”
I blink, taken aback that Logan has paid enough attention to me to know which hand is my dominant one. But before I can process how I feel about that, Maddoc’s voice draws me back to the conversation.
“She won’t be armed,” he says flatly.
“She won’t need to be,” Logan says, as if he’s already considered this. “We’ll be providing cover.”
That’s fine with me. I’ve never handled a gun and would be more scared of accidentally shooting my sister than doing anything useful if they tried to give me one.
Once Logan is done going over everything, Maddoc nods, looking satisfied. “Sounds like you’ve covered all our bases, and then some.”
Logan goes still, his shoulders tensing. “Do you see any flaws in the planning?”
“Pretty sure you don’t do flaws, Logan.” Dante laughs, shaking his head.
“There are always variables that can’t be fully predicted.”
“And yet you nail ’em anyway,” Dante says with a grin. “Remember how smooth that shit with Wheeler went down a couple years ago? You’re a fucking genius. Nah, better than that. Whatever’s a step up from genius.”
Logan opens his mouth like he’s going to deny it or argue or something, but Maddoc speaks first.
“Logan.”
The blond man’s eyes jerk over to meet Maddoc’s, and Maddoc smiles.
“You did good. We’re going to be walking into a clusterfuck waiting to happen, but we’re gonna walk right back out of it unfucked and ahead of the game… because of you. There’s no one else I’d trust with this shit. Ever.”
Logan drops his eyes at the praise, but not before I see a slight flush rise up on his cheeks.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him blush, and it makes him look more human than he ever has before. Almost shy.
When our impromptu kitchen meeting breaks up, I can’t stop my gaze from lingering on Logan as he and his brothers consult about some small details of the preparation. My mom always told Chloe and me to pay attention to a person’s actions more than their words, and despite the coldness Logan has shown toward me sometimes, he’s also gone above and beyond to give this rescue mission the best chance of success.
And even if he didn’t do it just for me, it still means a hell of a lot to me.
As the three men get down to the business of preparing for the mission, I grab some food and head upstairs.
The rest of the day passes at a fucking snail’s crawl. I can hear the three of them moving around the house, the muffled sounds of their voices occasionally and even some laughter. But my help isn’t needed with this part, and I don’t want to risk getting in their way or distracting them and messing things up, so I spend the hours wearing a path between my window and the bedroom door, pacing and worrying. Thinking about the dozens of ways this could all go to hell, and praying with everything in me that it won’t.
At around seven o’clock, I’m staring out the window into the back yard when the bedroom door opens.
“Riley?”
The deep voice behind me makes me jump, and I whirl away from the darkened window to face the door.
Dante raises his eyebrows, grinning as he saunters into the room toward me with a rugged-looking duffel in his hand. “Almost time.”
“Good,” I say fervently. Any more waiting, and I might’ve gone out of my mind.
“Got you something,” he murmurs when he reaches me, tucking some of my hair behind my ear and then letting his fingers linger on my cheek.
“A present?” I tease him, my whole body relaxing when he chuckles.
“Gift wrapped and everything,” he says, handing the duffle over.
I unzip it, pulling out some dark clothes and shit that looks like it was lifted from a S.W.A.T. team.
“You’ve got a kink for dressing me, don’t you?”
