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I shake my head. “I’ll figure it out.” Because I know exactly what’s coming next.
“I can go.”
Of course.“No,” I tell him.
He turns, his chest not puffing out how I imagined a young man’s would when being told no. He’s calm. “I can get close, put a tracker on the crates or something.”
A tracker? “I said no.”
He frowns but doesn’t answer back before turning and leaving me and Travis.
We sit in silence before Travis lights a smoke. “Boy might be right on this one.”
“No. We can’t have a kid going into this.”
“He’s a kid to us because we’re pushing forty.”
I huff.“Speak for your-fucking-self.”
“Boy wants to patch in. This could be his opportunity.”
“Travis—”
“Panic attacks?” His deep-set eyes lift to mine.
I sigh then bow my head.
“You ever going to tell me about them?”
Fuck no. I don’t even know that’s what they are. “I’m fine.”
He takes another drag from his smoke. “As always.”
Letting out another breath, I pull out my phone and chuck it on the table. “We can’t have Legs go into this.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” I counter. “Because he’s too young.”
Travis considers me for a moment. “How old were we when we patched in?”
I lean back in my chair. “That’s different,” I reply, knowing it isn’t. Legs has no family. We’re it for him.
“Why?”
“Because it fucking is.”
Travis leans closer, rolling the tip of his cigarette around the rim of the ashtray. “It’s the fucking same and you know it.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I feel my mood start to shift. Is this it? Do I tell Travis I want out? It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t. I need him fully focused if we're to get out of this godforsaken mess. “He’s not going in alone. Not a chance I’ll allow that.”
“I never said he’d go alone. But if what he’s saying is true, he’ll have to be the one to get close.”
“Then what?”
Stubbing out his smoke, Travis rubs his face. “Then we takethe haul and wipe them out.”
“That won’t come without repercussions.” Repercussions I can’t afford to have.
