"If I don't help him with this job, he's gonna get himself killed." Michael said as we worked on the charger's engine. Apparently, Michael's little brother needs help helping someone else out. "Oh, and now he's decided that the car is his."

"I've never seen you this attached to anything, Michael." I said, finishing up my work.

"If my dad left me this car, it was for a very good reason. He wasn't the sort of guy who would just leave me this because he was feeling generous."

"Yeah, well, I almost lost a finger putting in that air filter. I don't think he did you any favors."

"Yeah, well, that was more his style. Try it now." I climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key only to have the engine spit out a protest. "Uh, check the ignition." I heard Michael sigh as I reached under the dashboard to grab the wires only my fingers touched something else. I peered under to see a square computer board on the wires. Not a very good listening bug. I got out and went back to Michael.

"You know you go a bug in there."

"A bug?"

"Under the dash. Looks like Sam's work."

"Dawn, you don't know it's Sam."

"I know Sam's work. I thought you had an arrangement. He tells the feds what you're up to, tells you what the feds up to."

"I handle it."

"No, no, no, no." I extended my nails, the tips turning into very sharp blades. "I'd be happy to take care of it. There's nothing like a stomach gash to remind Sam who his friends are."

"Don't say anything. I know it's there. They'll only hear what I want them to hear. It's better this way."

"Is that tradecraft, Michael, or just protecting your friend?" I asked.

"It's both, Dawn." He stood up and walked over to me. "I gotta get cleaned up. Can you put this back together? Don't do—" He pointed a finger at me as if to tell me not to go looking for trouble.

"Look, I'll—I'll behave." He walked away. I smiled to myself. "Maybe."

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I walked past a plane and a red Ferrari in a sapphire blue dress and my blonde hair flying behind my shoulders in the wind. I walked up to hangar.

"Hey," I called to a guy and gave him a chuckle. "Is this Hangar 12?"

"What are you looking for?" The man asked.

"Hangar 12. I think. I met this guy at a club and he—he told me that he had a private plane and that he would take me up in it. And I—I get here and it's nothing like a regular airport."

"No, this is a private airport. I mean, this is Hangar 12 but it's uh, it's not your friend's hangar 12." I gave a light chuckle.

"God. What a jerk."

"What's the problem?" Another man walked up to us.

"No problem, relax." Guy One said.

"You have to leave." Guy Two said to me.

"You guys are working, huh?" I asked. "You know before I go, do you guys have a—a bathroom?" I walked past the two men to the back of the hangar, eyes quickly surveying the walls to see guns and weapons peeping out from behind boxes. "I mean drove out here all the way from South Beach and it looks like I have to go all the way back—"

"I'm sorry. You have to leave."

"Hey." A third's man called and an older man came up to us. Should I stay and risk getting in trouble or should I leave and go back to Michael like I promised since I didn't have my collar? I'll stay. I'm pretty sure I can talk my way out if there's a problem. The third man started to speak in a foreign language to the other two men.

"You're the, uh, boss?" I asked.

"That's right." Man Three said.

"I—I was just looking for a bathroom."

"No bathroom, out." Third man walked over to me and pushed me to the front of the hangar.

"Okay."

"Now."

"God, I just need to pee." I walked away from the men and headed back to Nate and Michael.

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"Arms dealers." Michael concluded when I told him what I saw. We leaned against the trunk of the charger, me in between the brothers. "Great."

"Heavy stuff too." I said. "Their plane had new engines. It could probably carry a few .50 caliber machine guns, maybe even a small tank."

"Probably shipping off to some African war off limits to legit dealers."

"Wait, you sure?" Nate questioned me. "You saw guns?"

"I'm sure. But I didn't even need too. I know a gunrunner when I see one. Fiona taught me the signs. They're her people. They ship in a special lubricant and the whole hangar smells like it." I grabbed a lock of hair and sniffed it. "Mmm, there it is."

"No wonder I got my ass kicked."

"Oh, you were lucky. The old guy had a Desert Eagle nine millimeter with combat grips."

"Ex-Mossad." Michael concluded.

"What do you mean?" Nate asked. "Like Israeli spies?"

"Sure, every other retired spook is an arms dealer." I said. "It's not a bad gig, if you can stand the ex-spooks." I looked at Michael as I said the last word and he snapped his head towards me and gave me a condescending look behind his sunglasses. "You should probably call your client."

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"Mike, I saved your ass at the warehouse." Sam said as he looked in the fridge for a beer. "The least you could do is have some decent beer." I sat next to Michael at the table, flipping through the pictures that Sam and Michael took when they followed the arm dealers.

"Next time you plan on saving my ass, tell me before I go to the store." Michael said. "We still have to find out where they keep their guns."

"I think you're gonna have to do the spy thing, Mike. Make a new friend. But I can't get an angle on the father. I mean, his security drill is airtight."

"What about the brothers?"

"The older brother's the same. He foes to work, he goes home. There's no way in."

"Younger?"

"I talked to him at the hangar." I said. "He's not so bright."

"I could check him out." Sam offered.

"Maybe you should bug his car." There was an awkward silence.

"Yeah, maybe I should. I'll do the recon. I'll see you guys later." And with that Sam left. Michael slapped me with his pile of pictures and I slapped him back with my pile of pictures.

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Fiona and Michael came through the door with bags in hand. I jumped off the bed, my nails clicking on the ground, and Sam turned the walkie talkie off.

"Hey, Mikey," Sam called to Michael. "You read this guy's profile, you're gonna kiss me."

"I am not gonna kiss you, Sam." Michael protested as he set the bags on the counter.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm gonna like it. I'm just saying you're gonna kiss me. It is that good." I hopped onto a bar stool and placed my front paws on the counter as Michael and Fiona began to unload stuff. "Alright, let's make you into an arms dealer." Michael began to make the fake C-4 as I watched Fiona make the real thing with curious eyes.

"How's the rest of the cover I.D?" Michael asked.

"Pretty good. Got you a fake Rolex."

"Please, Sam, I could have stole him a real one." I scuffed.

"You said you were done stealing, Dawn, remember?" Michael scolded me. I snorted and looked back at Fiona's work.

"Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted," Sam said. "Got a buddy who can rent us an Aston Martin pretty cheap. There's your business card."

"Ice Iron. That's my name." Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, I got to have some fun, Mike. Ah, here we go. Got you a list of Jumba's favorite wines , his position in the family business, favorite clubs, even where he likes to vacation."

"Nice work."

Hey, you done making the fake explosive? Can I lick that?" Michael was using cake icing to make the fake explosive. Michael chuckled.

"Knock yourself out." Michael walked over to me and ran his hand down my side, getting cake icing in my fur. I nipped at his hand as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands. "How's it coming, Fi?"

"Dangerous, unstable. Remind you of anyone?" Fiona looked at me.

"I may be dangerous but I am not unstable." I hung my head like I was ashamed of something. "At least not all the time."

"Pack it up, put a detonator on it. Make it look pretty. We have to put our best foot forward." Michael said.

"I'll wrap it in a bow." Fiona said.

"All right, I got to go to my mom's place. Sam."

"Mike." Sam called to him.

"Fiona."

"Michael." Fiona called to him.

"Dawn, be good." I turned and watched Michael leave the loft before giving a growl at Sam as he sat down at the table eating cake icing. I hopped off the stool and jumped onto the table and stuck my head into the bowl and began to lick it. Sam slapped the spoon onto my head, making it stick with the cake icing.

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"Are you going to see your new girlfriend?" I asked Michael as he came down the steps buttoning his shirt.

"Judith? She's not coming, no." Michael answered. "Which is good because I think Jumba is the jealous type." I walked over to Michael and helped him buttoned up his shirt.

"I can see why she likes you. You look like a secret agent."

"Listen, Dawn, I just need Jumba to show me where daddy keeps his guns, we bring in the cops, everyone goes home happy, expect for Judith."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be so hasty." I grabbed his jacket off the bed. "Imagine some South Beach model hanging on your every word." He turned around and I slipped his jacket on. I ran my hands down his back to smooth out the wrinkles. "How many times has she called you?"

"Five." I gave a chuckle. "Maybe she wants Jumba to take the deal." Michael turned back around to face me and I smoothed out his front.

"She wants to trade up." I looked up into his eyes. "Admit it. You're tempted." Michael gripped my upper arms with his firm hands.

"Not for a minute, Dawn." I sighed. "If I need a beautiful woman to mess up my life, I could do better than Judith." He turned and left. I wanted to grab his arm and pull him back. Wanting to make him stay but I knew he had a job to do and like he said before, relationships just aren't his thing.