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“Right. I’m going to let my best friend get arrested because you don’t know how to run a wire properly.”

Now that I’m losing surveillance on Creelman, I want to at least check in on what Macklin’s been up to, not least of all because there have been some worrying exchanges between Macklin and Creelman about Sasha. But tapping someone without a warrant is not only risky, it’s illegal.

“I told you I didn’t want you to risk jail time for me!” I shout. When I told Ford what I wanted to do, I said there was no way he was getting involved. He said there was no way he wasn’t.

I force myself to calm down. “You know I could figure it out.”

“You could. But you’d fuck it up.”

“You know I wouldn’t.”

He gets to his feet. “You’re right. You wouldn’t. But I can do it in a quarter of the time.”

After studying criminology and working for a private protection firm, Ford did a brief stint on the tech side of the FBI, running stings on drug dealers. He was the agency’s preeminent expert on digital surveillance and still consults for them.

I grit my teeth. Ford’s a stubborn asshole. But so am I.

“Illegal or not, I still think this is a shit idea,” Ford says after a moment. “Isn’t the Family Protection Policy enough?”

After this week, Sasha’s family will know she’s married, which means the news will get to both Sam Macklin and Vincent Creelman. Macklin will hopefully know what’s good for him, while Creelman will be officially approached by Lionel’s law enforcement connections, warning him to back off. That’s if her new status as a married woman doesn’t deter him first. Law enforcement assistance comes as an off-book part of the Family Protection Policy.

If he doesn’t back up, the policy says we move to level two—manned surveillance.

“What would you say if your sister was being stalked by Vincent Creelman?”

“Fuck you,” Ford says. His younger sister who gives him headaches. I wish he had a girlfriend or wife I could use for more emphasis, but Ford is the definition of no attachments—even more than me.

I don’t say anything, just fold my arms.

Ford goes back to the pile of computer equipment on the floor and begins tossing stuff into the boxes.

“That a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes.”

“You still think it’s overkill?”

“No, actually. I don’t. I’m just sick to death of Lionel breathing down my neck, and if he finds out about this—”

“I know you’re risking your job.”

“No. I don’t give a shit about this job, not anymore. I just don’t want Lionel to have a reason to fire me, not when I’ve given my life to this company for way too long.”

He tosses a box onto the desk. We’ve given up our lives for this job. Not because we’re suckers, but because we believed in what Lionel was doing. If I wasn’t so wrapped up in Sasha, I’d share his feelings exactly.

I do—I just have other things going on.

Guilt slides over me as I get back to helping him pack up.

“So what’s the plan long term? You coming to Texas?”

“I’m asking Lionel for desk work for a bit.”

“Great, so I’m going to get paired up with Meechum. Or Yang.”

Two great guys, but neither of us like being with other people. We both prefer working alone if we’re not on a job together. Hell, we barely tolerate each other on some of those longer jobs.

“Only for as long as it takes for me to know Sasha’s safe,” I say. “Creelman has to get tired of chasing an invisible woman at some point.”