Page 30 of The True Garza

“Who didn’t talk for an hour? True?” Tripp—my younger brother—asks. “That’s impossible.”

“Fuck off,” I tell Tripp, while sending a warning glare to Trent.Keep your mouth shut, fucker.The last thing I want is Tripp knowing about London. Dude’s got no chill.

“I’m thinking this is why Walter Bridge waited for her to return and hired her instead of sending one of their own agents,” Guy says. “He knows how we work. And he knows how she works. He knew if he sent any other agent, they wouldn’t have asked questions. We could drag shit out and work on our own time. But London, she’s a bull, and he fucking knew it. He knew she’d fuck us and he’d win. He used her as a middle finger to us.”

“Bet he didn’t figure she’d want to work with us in the end,” Tripp says.

“So we give him the middle finger right back by stealing his ace,” Trent muses. “Shouldn’t have shown his hand.”

“Oh, so you’re on board with hiring her now?” Torin asks Trent with a hint of amusement. Or maybe not. Who knows with him. The man’s devoid of emotion.

“If it means sticking it to Walter Bridge, then fuck yes.”

“It’s settled, then. Have HR draw up her contract.”

“She thinks we’re sexist,” Guy comments.

A ghost of a smile flits across Torin’s face. “Better make her contract look good, then.”

Fuck.

~

Five weeks later…

I push throughthe wooden gate and into Tripp’s courtyard where the rest of my family’s already gathered. Eating, drinking, laughing. Tripp’s got a nice-ass courtyard that he’s put a lot of work into. Great landscaping, flourishing plants, fancy outdoor seating and lighting—the works. Makes for a great atmosphere. Consequently, whenever the family wants to convene for any reason, this is where we do it.

“Look who’s finally made it,” Tillie, my little sister, calls, tipping her beer bottle in my direction.

“True!” Mom rushes forward and throws her arms around me. “You’re back.” She quickly pulls back and frowns at the gauze-covered area on my left arm. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Through a chuckle, I reassure her, “I’m fine, Mom. It was just a flesh wound.”

She hasn’t seen me in five weeks. I’d been in Rome with Reuben and Torin. After London fucked our “Geizer” operation, we had to shift to Plan B. The riskier approach that we tried to avoid.

We got the job done, but not unscathed. Shit got how shit tends to get with Plan Bs. Dangerously intense, but thrilling. I took a bullet in the arm, lost a lot of blood. But no one died, so all’s well. I only got back this morning.

Lyra was in Rome with us, so I already know what tonight’s announcement is. But I came here anyway because, well, my family hasn’t seen me in five weeks.

“Oh.” She scowls. “Ireallydon’t like this job you boys do.”

“I know. You tell us every other day.”

“That’s because I hope you’ll quit and save me the mini heart attacks I get every time something happens to one of you!”

Trent comes over just then and hands me a beer. “She’s giving you the ‘I hate your job’ talk again?”

“Yup.”

Mom narrows her eyes at him, but before she can lay into him, Tripp calls her over to where he’s grilling burgers. “Yo, Mom! C’mere a sec.”

“You good?” Trent asks after she leaves, gesturing his beer bottle to the gauze on my arm.

“Yeah. Should be able to take this off in a week.”

“London owes you for that bullet,” he says. “You should collect.”

“You know, it’s good you’re married, ’cause you’re disturbingly fucked in the head when it comes to any woman who isn’t Lexi.”