Page 33 of The Right Garza

His grin broadens. “You mean like Netflix and ‘Chill’?”

“I mean like chill the fuck out.”

“Oh, that type of chill…” He makes a face then shrugs. “Yeah, I know what it means, but I don’t know how to do it.”

Tripp chuckles.

Torin sighs from the screen. “From my point of view,noneof you know how to chill or stay focused for two seconds.”

“That’s why you’re the one in Russia, boss,” Tripp says, saluting him. “You’re theseriousone. Blend right in with them stony, never-smiling Russians. You’ve got so much fucking chill you could freeze the equator.”

I run my hand across my mouth to clear my smile.

Torin glowers. He’s the king of it. People sweat when he gives them that glower. But for us, we know he’s, well,Torin. He loves us. He just can’t fucking stand us.

Though I’m often accused of being a moody asshole, I’ve got a shit ton more warmth than he does. I don’t like most people, I tolerate some, and some I do enjoy being around. But that motherfucker doesn’t likeanyone.

“How are you holding up, brother?” I ask him.

He rubs his forehead. “Well, it’s never fun being here, but I believe I’m close to getting access to the target.”

“Well shit, that’s good news. Means we’re getting you back soon.”

“Doubt it. This one’s more dangerous than we thought. I’ll have to work my way in, choose the right time for action, and call in some favors from our contacts here for aid and reinforcements.”

I sit up straight. “How dangerous are we talking?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Fuck that,” I spit. “You need to getthe hellout of there if it’s gonna put you in more danger than we prepared for.”

“This is a seven-million-dollar job, Trent. I’m not walking away from it.”

“Seven million dollars you won’t be able to spend if you end up with a bullet in your head,” True retorts, his easy smile gone.

“Guys, I’ve got it under control.” Torin holds his hands up. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Silence stretches as we all exchange glances. None of us are comfortable with this. Had it been anyone else from the team, we would have pulled them from the assignment immediately. But it’s Torin. Not only does he have the last word, but no one can get him to do shit. We’ve tried to pull him off risky jobs before, but we’ve never been successful. He thrives on danger. Chases it. The guy’s got a goddamn death wish.

Tripp breaks the silence. “So, Tor, guess who’s back in L.A.”

Shit’s sake. He could have just let the silence live.

“Who?”

Tripp smirks evilly at me as he tells Torin, “Your favorite, brown-eyed Latina.”

Torin frowns. “Lexi?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.” A short pause. “How’s she doing?”

Like he doesn’t know. I fight back a snort. He’s been keeping tabs on Lexi for years. Shit, I kept tabs on her throughhistabs. That’s how I know he still wants her and never did let her go. Torin doesn’t care enough about people to keep tabs on them. The only people on that list for him are Mom, Tillie, and Lexi.

“You’d have to ask Trent that,” Tripp says, stirring shit. “He’s had her under lock and key.”

I point my phone at him “You’re asking for a beating.”