Page 49 of Falcon’s Forever

Harrier arrives behind him. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"We don't move yet," I say, and Vulture watches me say it like he half expected a different answer.

"Why?" Rook asks.

"Because they just poked the women's house and drove straight toward the one location they know we'd want to investigate." I look at Rook when I’m talking.

"Bait," Ice Pick says.

"Looks like it." I point at Condor. "You watch the warehouse remotely." At Rook, "You and Ice Pick take civilian vehicles, no cuts, stay three miles out, eyes only." At Zip, "Perimeter." At Harrier, "Keep the prospects inside the main compound."

"They'll bitch,” Harrier says.

"They'll live." I don’t care if they moan or not.

Vulture nods once. "Do it."

The brothers move the way we always do, fast and quiet and together, and I stand in the yard for a second and let it all sink in. Yesterday, an SUV on the road would've had me on the bike inside a minute. Today somebody touched the window of the house Cara sleeps in, and I made a plan instead of a decision, and used my brothers instead of my temper. It shouldn't feel like a victory, but It does anyway.

Zip stops beside me. "You okay?"

I look toward the women's house. "No."

He waits.

"But I'm here."

"Good answer." He nods his head.

We spend the afternoon waiting, which is worse than fighting in every way that matters. Condor traces the partial plate to a rental company, false ID, cash deposit, exactly what we expected and no closer to a name. Rook and Ice Pick watch the warehouse for four hours and nothing moves. By five I call them back. No chase. No hero shit. No giving whoever's out there exactly what they want.

At six I take the first evening perimeter rotation, not to punish myself, Vulture made me say that distinction out loud before he let me leave Church, but because I'm VP and I said I would. Zip walks part of the south line with me. For once, neither of us says much, but it’s a good kind of quiet. It’s the kind we’ve shared for years, comfortable and undemanding.

We reach the stretch closest to the women’s house. The new patrol line sits farther back now. Through the trees, I can see lights glowing inside and shadows moving past the windows.

It looks like a normal evening, well their version of one, anyway.

“You know they’re okay,” Zip says, following my gaze.

“Yeah,” I reply.

His attention stays on the house. “Cara too.”

“I didn’t ask,” I remind him.

“No,” Zip agrees, completely unbothered.

I give him a sideways look. “You’ve got an irritating habit of answering questions nobody asked.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he says with a shrug.

We continue along the patrol line. A few yards later, Zip breaks the silence again.

“You did well today,” he tells me.

“We didn’t catch them,” I point out.

"That wasn't the job." It’s the same thing he told me before, and I understand it better now than I did the first time.