“You’re not. Benicio put you in a difficult situation, with no guidelines for what to do should trouble arise, probably because he didn’t expect any.”

“It’s a sham, isn’t it?” I said, walking to the window and looking out. “The job, I mean. Yes, there is grumbling in the gang, but that was only an excuse to call me in. To put me through my paces, see what I can do.”

“And give you a taste for what you could be doing.”

I balled up my hands, fighting to keep from raising them to my mouth. Chewed nails wouldn’t become Faith Edmonds. It was a habit I’d finally broken six months ago, but had never been so tempted to restart as I’d been in this past month.

Tricked by the Cortez Cabal again. This wasn’t just about testing me; it was about tempting me.

I wanted to say, “Maybe that’s his plan, but he’s not succeeding.” A lie. Karl had seen it in my face last night. Drunk on chaos, chugging it back and paying for it in the morning. As with booze, though, if I kept at it, my tolerance level would rise and the guilt hangovers would disappear. I’d end up in the place I fought so hard to stay out of.

“So your advice?” I asked carefully.

“Don’t call. If he complains later, it was my decision. You won’t like suggesting I have the final say, but as progressive as Benicio is, he’s old enough that he won’t bat an eye at the implication that you’d defer to someone older and, yes, male.”

I managed a snort. A smile touched Karl’s eyes, though it didn’t reach his mouth.

He continued. “Proceed with the break-in as planned. Later, we’ll inform Benicio of the findings. If, however, you discover nothing, and they plan to interrogate this employee, notify me, discreetly, and I’ll call Benicio.”

“I can text you with the name and address.”

He paused.

“Text messaging,” I said. “On your cell phone.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.”

I tried not to smile. As technologically savvy as Karl was, I’d bet he’d never once used the text message option. For him, the phone was a one-way tool, to make hotel reservations or call a source. And his number always appeared as blocked.

I continued. “If you do contact Benicio, you should ring Lucas too, as a heads-up. He asked to be kept in the loop in case anything turns ugly.”

“Agreed. So—”

My gang-supplied cell phone rang.

“Sorry,” I said as I retrieved it from the kitchen. “It’s probably Jaz.”

“Jaz?” He said it as if it was a foreign word.

“Jasper. The—”

“Boy.”

“He wanted to hook up—”

“I’m sure he did.”

I gave him a look. “I don’t mean—” Well, actually, that was why Jaz wanted to get together. I answered the phone.

“Hey.”

“Faith?” It was Guy. “Is Jaz there?”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen him since he and Sonny took off on that errand. Hasn’t he come back yet?”

“He did. About an hour ago. They were heading to their place to get ready for tonight. I called to ask them to swing by early, but I’m not getting an answer.”

“Ah, well, Jaz…dropped his phone earlier…”

“I called him after you left, and it was working fine. Sonny isn’t answering either. I’m concerned. Jaz can be high strung, and I know he wasn’t happy at being left out tonight, but to ignore my calls…”

“Even if he did, Sonny wouldn’t.”

“I’ll check with the others, then maybe head to their place.” He hesitated. “If I do, I could use a second pair of eyes, if you’re free.”

My chest constricted. If Guy wanted “a second pair of eyes” he’d pick one of the others. Asking me meant he wanted a service the others couldn’t provide: chaos detection.

He thought something had happened to Jaz and Sonny.

“Sure,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Give me a call and I’ll be there.”

I disconnected and slumped into a chair. Karl didn’t ask what had happened—he wasn’t one to avoid eavesdropping or pretend he had.

“Maybe they’re just out of the cell-service area,” I said. In Miami. Right. “Or they could be someplace that’s blocked reception—a restaurant maybe. Yes, that’s probably it. Guy can be a little paranoid.”

“Not a bad trait in a leader, particularly when it comes to the safety of his subordinates.”

My phone rang again. Guy calling back. He’d contacted Bianca, then Rodriguez—who was with Tony and Max. None of them had seen or heard from Jaz or Sonny since the meeting. Guy gave me an address. I said I’d be there in twenty minutes.

JAZ AND SONNY’S place was what I’d expected: a well-kept walkup in a neighborhood that straddled the line between dubious and dangerous. They could afford better, but this was decent enough, and they probably didn’t spend much time here.

People who’ve gone through rough times financially seem to have two responses when their fortunes change. Some spend the money as fast as they can, treating themselves to everything they missed. Others are careful, determined to have some left over if the flow ebbs. At first glance, you’d peg Jaz and Sonny as type one.

But they weren’t as careless as they seemed, especially Sonny.

Security was like the building itself—decent, but nothing special. Guy broke into the apartment effortlessly.

As we stepped in, I braced for the worst. While I’d convinced myself they were just out of phone contact, I kept thinking back to their encounter with the Cabal goons. Those guys hadn’t targeted Jaz and Sonny at random. They weren’t only the newest gang members—they were also the least supernaturally powerful. And let’s face it, one look at them and they were clearly guys who liked to resolve their disputes over beers, not broken heads.

So I braced myself to see a ransacked apartment, stepped into the living room and let out a sigh of relief. I wouldn’t call the place tidy, but there was no sign of a break-in or a struggle. A basket of dirty laundry waited to be taken to the cleaners. Sonny had tossed his jacket on the sofa. Sections of the Miami Sun were spread about, left wherever they’d been read. Breakfast dishes were stacked in the sink. It looked like my apartment when I was busy and didn’t expect visitors.