“Why do we care if you shoot him?” one of the men around us asks.

“You don’t. Colin will.”

“How do we even know that’s his brother?”

Tommy shrugs as a bead of sweat slips down my back. “Don’t get him, then. But it won’t take him long to identify what I leave you.”

“I am his brother,” I shout before Tommy calls their bluff and leaves me in a puddle of my own gray matter. “Tell him Reilly is here.”

At first, no one moves, and then, a shadow on the left shifts. The man steps back and, after a hushed conversation with the woman in charge, leaves.

“Ahh …” Tommy says. “So you do know where he is?”

“We didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t need to, pumpkin. And I bet he’s not going to be happy when he walks in and sees this.”

“What do you want with him?”

“I heard there’s a lot of money on his head.”

My skin cools, goose bumps prickling along the surface. Tommy said he wasn’t a hitman. Is he working with Arlie and Ever? Is that why they said yes to this job? Have I led them to my brother and sealed his fate?

The way my stomach churns almost has me doubling over. “You can’t hurt him.”

“Shut up.”

“We trusted you to help us!”

Tommy ruffles my hair with his gunless hand. “You asked us to find Colin. Well, I think we found him. You’re welcome.”

“Not to kill him!”

“That wasn’t specified.”

Holy shit, what have I done? What have I done?

All I need is to reach up and turn my comms on, without Tommy realizing it, so the others can hear what’s happening. If he’s in partnership with Arlie and Ever, it could end up putting Perry and Lars at risk, but I have to trust they can help themselves. That we can all get through this.

As slowly as I can, I inch my hand toward my ear. So slowly. So subtly. My arm is straining with how controlled I’m keeping it, but I don’t want to risk giving myself away. I’m hardly fucking breathing.

My thumb brushes the top of my ear, and I creep lower, find the button⁠—

“Reilly?”

My brother’s bespectacled face is flooded by the flashlight, and I’m hit with too many emotions at once. Love, relief, frustration, happiness, and—when the gun leaves my head—terror.

I leap to my feet and turn on Tommy, throwing my arms out to the side. “Don’t shoot.”

Tommy stares me down, then, whistling that same chilling tune, he spins his gun over one finger and tucks it away. “Told you I know how to get what I want.” Tommy winks.

He fucking winks.

“That … was an act?”

“Sure was. You played your part perfectly, by the way.”