Page 118 of Magic or Madness

“Okay, but how does that help? Identifying the room is one thing, but everything else we know doesn’t exactly answer the most important questions,” I say, pushing back on his revelation to challenge him more.

“Well, we can make the loading dock the point of entry. More often than not, those doors are left unprotected. If Lex can find a way to hack into their opening system, maybe we can use that to our advantage. Like I said, it’s only slightly more than what we had.” He shakes his head like his findings aren’t important, and I pat him on the back, giving him the credit where it’s due.

“This is great, Oliver. Let’s pull up the map, I have an idea,” I tell him, and he digs around until we find the paper map with all roads surrounding the warehouse marked in blue.

“The boys should take this road tomorrow, a new angle that will give them a direct sightline of the loading dock. Far enough away to avoid detection, but close enough to get better surveillance than we had before.” I highlight the line with a red marker and use a pushpin to tack it to the wall.

“Progress.” He holds his fist out, waiting for me to mimic his action, and I shake my head, unable to resist.

“Progress.” I reiterate, bumping my knuckles against his and wiggling our fingers, another silly handshake we came up with when we cook together.

“The guys should be back soon, I’ll let you get back to your peace,” he says, cleaning up the mess we made on the desk and diving back into some previously discarded surveillance photos.

“Thank you for bringing me in on this. I needed a bit of positivity.” I make my way back to our bedroom, and once the door shuts behind me, I can finally breathe again.

I can fake my way through a few conversations with Oliver, and dedicate my time to help Ozzy plan, but when I’m alone, I can beg the universe to take this job away from them.

I don’t want to plan it anymore, I can’t stand the tension around here, and I need them all to stay in one piece. Unfortunately, my desperate pleas are ignored, and a little later, Ozzy comes waltzing into the room, happy with what Oliver found.

“This is perfect. We’re going to find something, a loophole or an error, I know it,” he says cheerfully, smiling as he slips his boots and jeans off.

I scooch over, giving him space in the bed, but keep my reservations to myself.

In our relationship, Ozzy and I have had a total of two arguments. One was over what to do about Mick and Rae before I moved out, and the other … well, let's just say it was a fight for dominance and ended perfectly for both of us.

“Fallon, you’ve barely said a word, what is it?” He finally notices my standoffish attitude, pulling me close and wrapping his arms around my waist under the covers.

“Nothing, baby. I’m tired, that’s all.” I attempt to lie through my teeth, but he senses it immediately, sitting up in bed and spinning me until I face him.

“What is it, Fallon?”

I shake my head, biting my lip to avoid my words coming out like vomit, but it’s no use.

“This job is impossible. You guys are going to get caught, or killed, and I’m not comfortable sitting around and enjoying a front-row seat.” I spill, and his eyes widen at my confession, my words coming as a complete shock to him.

“We can handle ourselves, Fallon. You don’t have to help, especially if it turns you intoMiss Doom and Gloom!” He yells, venom dripping off every word, and I raise my eyebrow, ready to play defense.

“Excuse me? I’ve been helping just as much as everyone else, constantly trying to find a way for this to work! I’m all for you guys doing what needs to be done, but this job is fucking reckless, and has no happily ever after!” I shout, my voice echoing off the walls, and he pushes off me as he climbs out of bed.

I watch as he paces around the room, stuck inside the depths of his mind, and as pissed off as I am with him for yelling at me, I can see the pure anguish on his face.

This is eating him alive, too.

“I know, Fallon. But I can’t quit now. Max tried to pull out today, our visit to the warehouse was just for show, but the client … has done their research on us.”

I wrap the blanket around myself and hold my hand out for him to take, but instead, he backs away, putting distance between us.

“What do you mean, Ozzy?” I narrow my eyes, bracing for the worst with bated breath.

“Whoever the client is, they know Doc is gone. Lex erased our tracks in Jacksonville, but somehow this guy has us in the storage unit clear as day. He has shots of us over the last year, with no Doc in sight. He wants to spread the word that we killed our boss, and blacklist us for good,” he confesses, and my mind is a jumbled mess, racing to catch up with everything he’s said.

Storage unit?

A year?

The way they spoke about Doc made it seem like he’s been gone for a long time, not something close enough to bleed like a fresh wound.

“So you’re being blackmailed?” I question, and he nods in response, not helping the growing anxiousness forming in my chest.

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