Rede had never been inside Ronan’s hideaway before. She’d had no reason to. Now, she was starting to regret not coming along: she felt off balance, enveloped by a space that felt remarkably welcoming considering its occupants.

The rows of seats that remained had been converted into furniture: cushions bulked up and repaired to make couches and beds, surfaces evened out like tabletops, plywood walls erected between the support poles that punctuated the space. Somehow, Ronan had restored the original lighting system: strips of fluorescent bulbs running along either side of the ceiling. Overall, the environment felt oddly homey. Or it would, if Rede didn’t pay attention to the weapons racks lining the walls or the odd bloodstain peeking through layers of watered-down paint.

Ronan himself looked different than Rede had expected: shorter and fitter, with streaks of ginger lingering in his graying beard. Faded tattoos ringed his fingers and peeked out from beneath the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He stood in the middle of the car, arms crossed, glowering at the crew from beneath bushy eyebrows.

“What the fuck,” he said slowly, “is going on?”

“Hi,” Inna said helpfully. He withered under Ronan’s glare.

Shay adjusted her goggles. “We’ve found ourselves in a bit of a pickle.”

Ronan looked her up and down. “I can fucking tell. What are you doing with them?”

Shay explained the days’ events in record time. Rede appreciated how hard she tried to make the team appear friendly and mentally stable — a daunting task, and one she handled well. Frankly, Rede hadn’t expected Shay to go to the trouble.

Ronan took a slow and deliberate seat on the nearest bench-turned-cot. “You know, Shay, next time you want to get someone’s attention, you can just go through me.”

“I didn’t want to deal with your new guys,” Shay whined. “None of them know me, and they’re all trigger-happy. That’s the worst possible mixture.”

The crew wisely abstained from pointing out the irony of that statement. Meanwhile, Four-Stroke looked like he was trying to melt into the wall.

Ronan made a gesture of surrender. “Fine, sure. I’ll give you that one.” He rubbed his beard. “You know I had to scramble, though. Never easy to replace your best.”

“I still don’t know why you let those two go.” Shay clucked her tongue. “I liked them, too. Especially the short one. She was mean.” Her tone sounded oddly appreciative.

“These things happen. So, you’re here to ask for help,” Ronan said, returning the conversation to a subject for which Rede actually had context.

“Yep. The usual.” Shay shrugged. “Any spare arms and ammo you’ve got lying around, safe passage through your area, and maybe a guy or two to follow us in a chase boat, if you can spare the hands.”

“The usual?” Ronan grimaced. “This is an unusual fucking situation, kid. Do you know how many of Ducky’s chasers I’ve had to get rid of in the past couple hours alone?” He rubbed his beard pensively.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Shay actually did look contrite. “I really didn’t know how much trouble I was going to cause. Joey…”

“Not Joey,” Ronan interrupted. “You.”

“Yeah, okay.” Shay adjusted her goggles again. “My bad. Got it.”

Ronan stared her down for another moment longer. He muttered something indistinct, then stood up. “I’ve got no spare arms or ammo, let alone a goddamn chase boat. If I did, I’d give it to you. I hate to tell you, believe me, but my hands are tied. ”

“So are mine,” Shay said. “No matter what we do, Ducky’ll go after us. All we’re asking is help keeping him off our backs until we finish what we’re doing.”

“Aren’t you listening?” Ronan didn’t hide his exasperation. “There’s nothing I can do. I’m running a business here. I won’t stop you from doing what you’re doing, but I all I can give you is jack and shit.”

Rede’s mind raced nearly as fast as her pulse. They couldn’t afford to lose Ronan’s help. She tried to keep her face neutral as she internally scrambled for something, anything, that might persuade Ronan to give up one of his precious few resources.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Shay didn’t budge. “At least give us a way to contact you if we need help. And let us spend the night.”

“You’ve already got my channel,” Ronan said. “Use the scanner.”

Shay nodded shortly. “Are you sure there’s nothing else that you can do? Whatever you’re asking, I’ll pay.”

“We’ll help,” Inna added. Thanh stomped on his foot.

Ronan eyed Inna, who was now wincing and standing on one leg. “What the fuck do you have to offer that I’d want?”

The team looked at one another silently.

And then the thought clicked. “Food,” Rede said.

“Food?” Ronan echoed.

Rede nodded. A bubble of hope swelled inside her chest, forcing the words up and out. “Mara’s got a connection with one of the grocery guys who delivers up in the hills. He's reliable and the stuff he brings is quality. It's all totally underground. No trail, no police. We can get you in with him, too.”

“No shit?” Ronan’s face was still impossible to read, but his tone seemed promising. “That’s not too bad.”

“We already have ways to get food,” Four-Stroke protested.

“Shut it, jackass,” Ronan said. He returned his attention to Rede. For a second, she saw his eyes land on her jacket, and a spark of recognition flickered inside them before he refocused on her face. “You’ve got proof?”

“Not on us,” Rede admitted.

Ronan’s expression faded from hope to skepticism.

“Have we ever lied to you?” Rede asked. She conspicuously adjusted her jacket.

The corner of Ronan’s mouth curled in grudging admiration. Still, he wasn’t convinced. “You can’t stake a deal on a dead girl’s reputation.”

“Then stake it on mine,” said Shay.

“You’ll take the fall if they crap out?” Ronan asked. Doubt turned his voice bitter. “That’s a gamble.”

“Sounds fun,” Shay said, grin as toothy as the Big Bad Wolf’s.

Ronan looked like he was about to say something, but decided not to. With a shrug, he turned to Four-Stroke and instructed him to set up a room for the crew to spend the night.

#

Four-Stroke took them to the third car, which was filled entirely with bench-cots apparently meant to house the jackers currently on duty. He gruffly explained that he’d be standing watch, so they shouldn’t worry. Rede had her doubts about that. Outwardly, she smiled and mumbled a thank-you before slipping inside the car.

The team reveled in the luxury of the electric lights, flipping them on and off with squeals of excitement and standing on their tiptoes to get their eyes as close to the bulbs as possible until they’d tired themselves out. Rede lay on the ground to catch her breath, letting the lights burn multicolored spots into her eyes as if she could hoard light like an animal storing food before winter. In the back of her mind, she wondered when something she used to take for granted had turned into a near miracle.

“I saw you move the jacket,” Shay said. Rede jumped — she hadn’t noticed her sit down on the bench, thanks to the near-blindness she’d induced. “What was that about?”

Rede sat up, blinking her way back to normal vision. The question had taken her by surprise. “It was Lacey’s,” she said at last. She hadn’t had to explain this before; everyone just knew.

Shay nodded. “A trademark. Like these.” She tapped her goggles.

“Yeah, I guess. Jacket and the hair, that’s how people knew her.” Rede shrugged.

“What’s your trademark, then?” Shay asked.

Rede blinked. Shay had a knack for asking the most confusing questions. “I don’t have one.”

Shay’s brow knit. She looked just wrong-footed as Rede felt. “Why not?”

“I don’t need one?” Rede shifted self-consciously. “I don’t…do stuff. That was kind of Lacey’s area.”

“You seem like you’re doing plenty of stuff,” Shay pointed out.

“It’s different,” Rede said. “This is just a one-time thing.”

“So you’re stealing this?” Shay tapped the jacket.

“Borrowing,” Rede corrected.

“Why not just make your own?” Shay asked, as if it was just that simple.

Rede made a noise which she hoped would express her dismay. “Because it’s Lacey’s. Everyone knows what this thing means. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised you didn’t recognize it.”

“I probably should’ve known what it was,” Shay said. “I just don’t pay attention.”

“I didn’t know you had that ability.”

Shay gasped in exaggerated offense. “First Ronan, now you! I’m being attacked on all fronts.”

“Don’t do stupid stuff and no one’ll say anything.” Rede sat up and leaned against the cot Shay was sitting on, which turned out to be a mistake: with her back turned, she was left vulnerable to Shay’s sneak pillow attack. Rede spluttered, shielding her face with her arms and scooting away from the cot. “Hey! Asshole, cut it out!”

“Quit yelling,” Inna demanded. He was huddled on the floor with a blanket over his head, eyeing the door to the car. “If Ronan hears us making noise…”

“Oh, he won’t do much.” Shay sat back on her heels, pillow lifted in front of her chest like a shield. “His bark is worse than his bite.”

“You seem to know the dude pretty well,” Thanh said, rolling over on the cot where she lounged. Next to her, Mara absently plucked at a loose thread on the blanket.

“We’ve known each other for a while,” Shay said.

“Was he one of the people you hounded after Drew died?” asked Thanh. The question sounded accusatory, though Rede knew she probably didn’t mean it that way.

Shay didn’t seem offended. “Nah, he was an old coworker of my brother’s. We go way back.”

“You can’t use that phrase,” Rede objected. “You’re, what, twelve years old?”

“Oh, as if you’re so old and wise,” Shay sniffed.

“Careful, pipsqueak,” Thanh warned. “We just saved your ass, remember?”

“Barely.” Shay tried to hide her pout.

“Yeah, about that…” Inna's brow crinkled. “Do we actually have a plan for how we’re going to follow up on that deal?”

“Yes,” Rede said slowly.

Mara snapped out of her reverie to spear Rede with a look. Rede fiddled nervously with her jacket’s zipper.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Shay trilled.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” Rede muttered.

“Sure,” Shay drawled.

Rede snatched the pillow from her and smacked her over the head.