Wunderkind 2

by The Thistle Girl

Getting Mac cleared of murder and terrorism was only the beginning. Now, the team is hunting down the elusive and dangerous James MacGyver, dealing with the threat of an escaped and obsessed Murdoc, and tackling the most difficult Phoenix cases around the globe...

2. Muscle Car and Paperclip

Thanks to a lovely reviewer on AO3 who gave me the push I needed to actually start updating on here again!

---

202-Muscle Car+Paperclip

20,000 FEET ABOVE NORTH KOREA

AND FALLING

"Any time you wanna close that door, Riley, that would be great!" Jack yells, before one of the thieves slams him against the side of the plane.

"Yeah, I'm trying, Jack, but this is an eight-hundred-million dollar military aircraft designed specifically to be unhackable! It's not exactly user-friendly!" She's going as fast as she can, because she's watching Mac and Jack and Cage getting pummeled. Eight guys is not good odds. But if she doesn't get this plane under control, they're all definitely going to die, because a plane crash is even worse odds.

Mac's doing something to a supply crate inside the cargo bay, but one of the guys slips past Mac and Cage's defenses and tries to pull him away. Mac reacts violently to being grabbed from behind, kicking out and pushing himself off the crate to fall on his back on top of the man who attacked him. The guy grunts, breath knocked out of him, and Mac slams an elbow into the side of his head, gets back up, panting, and goes back to work after taking a couple shuddering breaths.

Riley's phone rings. Please don't be Matty. Not right now.

It's not Matty. It's worse.

"Mom?"

"Riley? Oh my God, you're never going to believe this." Diane sounds thrilled.

"Yeah?" Riley tucks the phone against her ear and continues typing.

"I got offered a promotion!"

"That's great." Riley knows she sounds flat, but she's currently trying to save her entire team's lives, so she can't really muster the enthusiasm.

"They want to promote me to branch manager, in Los Angeles. Apparently the last manager was skimming funds," Mom says casually. "I'd be right there with you, wouldn't that be great?"

"Um, yeah, totally." There's a reason Riley left home. Mom is the most nosy person on planet Earth, and I've worked...and lived...with people whose jobs are gathering intelligence. Having to spend large amounts of time with her makes Riley skittish. She's always afraid of Mom realizing the truth.

Another goon gets past Cage and comes for Riley, clearly aware that she's trying to foil their plans. She sets down her phone and rig and sweeps her leg under this guy's, dropping him like a rock and knocking him out with a swift punch before grabbing up her phone and rig again. "Sorry about that."

"What was that thud? Are you out of breath?"

"I'm working out, Mom."

"Oh, nice." But Diane doesn't take the hint. "You're happy about this, right?"

Jack gets tackled by two guys at once and goes down hard, and Mac stops whatever it is he's doing to wade into the fight himself. Riley flinches as he takes a knee to the ribs.

"Yeah, I am. That's great."

"Good, because I accepted, and they want me to start on Monday."

"What?" That's way too soon, she doesn't have time to find a place...wait… "Why did you tell them you could start so soon?"

"I really wanted the job, and I thought if I told them I could start right away, they'd pick me. I was kind of counting on being able to stay with you till I find a place of my own, you said your roommate moved out, right?" Riley glances at Sam, who's taking on one of the bigger guys, slamming him repeatedly into a cargo rack and trying to tangle his hands in the netting. "It is okay, right? It's just for a little while, until I find my own place."

The plane shudders, tilting, and Mac gasps as the crate he's returned to working on slides toward him. Jack yanks him out of the way before it pins him against a wall, and then goes back to punching people. "Mom, it's not a good time, okay? Can I call you back?"

"I'm sorry if I upset you, I didn't mean to." Of course she assumed I'd be fine with it. Riley's always fine, right?

"It's just a lot right now, and I really am busy, okay Mom? We'll talk later." She hangs up and types faster.

Jack takes a fist to the face and staggers. He and Cage are both starting to tire. There's only three guys left standing, but they're tough to take down.

"Hey Mac, whatever you're doing do it faster! What are you doing anyway?" Jack asks, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"I think you're gonna like this!" Mac yells. "Get them closer to me!"

"This whole time we've been trying to avoid that!" Sam shouts.

"Just trust me!" And clearly they do. Jack and Cage both fall back, toward Mac and whatever he's doing. And then Mac jumps forward, holding a couple carabiners that Riley can see are attached to the netting on the crate. He latches them through the guys' belts and then slams his foot against something on the floor. "Jack, Cage, get out of the way!"

The crate slides backward and out the door, dragging the three remaining thieves with it. Riley watches as it drops, and then a network of parachutes pops up, lifting it into the air with the three men dangling underneath.

Her rig beeps, and suddenly, the plane control systems flash green on her screen. "I have controls!" She immediately types in an autopilot sequence, and closes the rear door. Their descent levels out, and then they start to climb again. Riley keys in the coordinates of the closest aircraft carrier.

"I'll tell Matty we've got the plane." It's sad, she muses, that explaining this absolute debacle of a mission is actually better than giving her mom that call back she promised.

---

PHOENIX R&D

ON PINS AND NEEDLES. LITERALLY.

"Hang on, Cage. Almost done." Bozer mumbles around a mouthful of pins like he's in a fifties homemaker advertisement.

"If you stab me with one more of those, I will break every bone in your hand." Sam's threat is as cool and calm as if she's telling him what time it is.

"Right, right, right. There we go...all set." Boze steps back to admire his work. At least, that better be all he's admiring. "Your new and improved evening wear. Custom ballistic Kevlar woven right in." He turns to Riley, who's equally stunningly outfitted, and his gaze lingers a lot longer, Sam notices with a small grin. He's still totally into her. "You'll be the bulletproof belles of the ball." He clears his throat. "Have I mentioned how dashing I look in a tux?"

"Nice try, Bozer, but Matty wants me and Sam to run this op alone. She thinks the ambassador is more likely to want to talk to a couple unaccompanied women." Riley smoothes the short skirt of her black and silver dress. Cage's own red one is ankle length, but it's made up for by a long slit that comes to the middle of her thigh, and a daringly low-cut neckline. We're definitely going to get noticed. Which is exactly what we want, for once, tonight.

Bozer hands them both small clutch purses perfectly designed to conceal Riley's small handgun and Sam's knives.

"By the way, this is really good. Where'd you learn to sew like this?" Riley asks, still admiring her dress.

Bozer leans back on his desk, smiling in that odd reminiscing way. "Tenth grade. Ayesha Goldfarb. She was Juliet. I wanted to be her Romeo."

"Are we talking real life or high school production?" Sam asks.

"Both. They cast that doofus Aaron Schwartz instead. So I volunteered for the crew to be near Ayesha, and the only department that still needed help was costumes."

And were you star-crossed lovers?" Riley says.

"Nah. She wound up dating the guy who played her dad. They're married now." He glances at Riley again . Yeah, he's totally hoping to hit on her. But she's also totally blowing him off. There's a lot of subtext here that even they aren't aware of.

"Worried, Riley?" Bozer asks. Clearly he's managed to at least pick up on that. It's been obvious since they walked in here for the fitting, if he hadn't noticed Sam might think about checking his vitals.

"It's technically my first mission in command of my own team," Riley says.

"What was your first?" Bozer asks innocently.

Cage sees Riley flinch. Her first was the Bishop op. No one needs a reminder of how badly that went down. She felt like what happened to Mac in there was on her head, because Thornton left her in charge while she tried to straighten things out in DC. Mac never blamed her, but that doesn't mean Riley doesn't do it enough herself.

"It was sort of an emergency, so it doesn't really count. Plus," she lowers her voice slightly. "It was on a need to know basis. And you don't need to know."

"Come on, I can handle the truth." Riley just shakes her head, and Sam knows who's right. No, Bozer, you can't.

---

MAC'S HOUSE

THE BEST PLACE TO SPEND A SLOW DAY

Jack leans on the counter, cleaning his gun and waiting for Mac to get out of the shower after his morning run with Mickey. Jack's still a little winded; both Mac and his dog are infuriatingly athletic. Jack's already cleaned up; half his house is in the guest room and he hasn't bothered to take it back to his place yet. Military regulation shower times are a hard habit to break.

He grimaces as he straightens up; he still has a hell of a lot of bruises from that plane fight. The bathroom mirror told him they're starting to turn a lovely shade of chartreuse. I'm sure if I thought about it for a minute, I could tell you the color code for that particular tile hue. Jack's color vocabulary is surprisingly broad, thanks to his civilian cover as a tile salesman. He's shocked Riley multiple times by complimenting her choice of nail polish tint with the most accurate description possible. He likes randomly surprising people by rattling off the big words he pretends he's too dumb to know.

His phone buzzes. He pulls it out and groans. It's from Matty.

War Room ASAP. You and Blondie.

"Mac, we gotta go to work!" Jack yells, and then realizes Mac walked into the room while he was looking at the text, and is standing next to him wearing one of Jack's t-shirts and a paint-stained pair of jeans. "Oh, sorry man."

"I'm not deaf. Yet." Mac turns back to his room.

"She said ASAP dude."

"I'm trying to decide if she'll be madder if I show up late, or looking like this."

"She called on our day off. Her problem." Jack shrugs. "Hey, she oughta be glad she didn't catch us sweaty."

Jack was really looking forward to spending at least one day not getting shot at, beaten up, or falling out of the sky. And not having to worry about any of the above happening to Mac. So he thinks his less than stellar attitude upon walking into the War Room can be forgiven.

"Thank you for showing up on such short notice," Matty says, and Jack notices that she doesn't comment on his scowl or Mac's choice of clothing.

"So why are we here?" Jack asks.

"A smuggling gang working across the border that just jumped from small-time to a major player. The authorities believe they're also a street racing crew based out of LA; a few of the vehicles were IDed and match LAPD reports of illegal races. Originally, they were drug running for La Ola cartel. But lately they've switched gears, and now they're transporting guns across the border to supply the Mexican portion of the cartel. There's a major turf war going on with the Los Diablos around Mexico City."

Mac flinches. Jack knows the kid's last act as a vigilante was blowing up one of La Ola's gun warehouses. It's been over three years and nothing's changed. These guys are still doing the same things they were when Mac was still on the streets.

"The ATF and the DEA have been unable to get a lead on the locations of the races, which is the only time these smugglers will show themselves in a group. The only thing we know for sure about this case is that a major shipment of a new German-made assault rifle has gone missing; and that the pattern fits with the other thefts traced to this group."

"And they brought this case to us?" Mac asks. "It doesn't sound like a normal Phoenix op."

Matty pull up some images on the screen. "The CIA is tracking the shipment of G-36 rifles stolen last week. They're highly lethal and easy to slip past the normal detection methods."

"Oh yeah, I know these bad boys. The firing rate is incredible. There's hardly any recoil, too. Made of fiberglass and reinforced plastic, so they have a low metal content that scanners can be fooled into missing. Light, strong, extremely deadly. Those are a nasty piece of work," Jack says, glancing at the video. He's seen these in action. Letting them hit the streets in the hands of cartels would be a disaster.

"Okay, once you're done nerding out, Dalton, can we continue?" He nods. "The CIA can't legally seize the guns since they're on US soil, and they're handing off the case to us. The other agencies are in a jurisdictional war, and the CIA is trying to keep this out of their hands, so they don't blow the whole thing before they ever make a bust."

Jack's beginning to get the idea of how this is going to go. We need to get the locations of those races, and proof that these guys are the smugglers... This is an undercover op.

"The only way to get in with people like this is to be one of them." Matty says. "And given your pursuit driving record, and the fact that you own two vehicles that fit the profile of a street racer…"

"You picked me for the undercover." Suddenly Jack is a lot more enthusiastic about this mission. So all I have to do is score an invite to their illegal races, get them to trust me, and see if I can con them into offering me a cut of the profits if I'll drive for their smuggling operation. And then we have all the evidence we need to take them down. "Oh hell yeah. Fast and Furious, baby." Jack grins.

"Let me be clear, Jack, you are not to break the law any more than strictly necessary for this operation. If you get arrested for illegal racing, the Phoenix will take care of the charges, but I think it goes without saying that I will be making sure there are proper repercussions."

"This is the perfect time to break out one of my favorite cover personas." Jack grins. "There's only one guy with the panache for street racing."

Matty looks like she wants to facepalm. Clearly, she remembers this one.

"Who?" Mac asks innocently.

"Nicky Stokes."

---

HOLLYWOOD HILLS

JACK IS DEFINITELY ENJOYING THIS TOO MUCH

Mac can hear the pounding bass before the car even turns in the driveway. Jack has the speakers cranked way up, and he's currently blasting "You Shook Me All Night Long". Mac frowns when Jack pulls around to the front of the house and he gets a look at the new plates the GTO is sporting. STOKE'D.

Jack really enjoys these undercover ops. Although I don't know that there's much 'undercover' about this situation. He shakes his head when Jack parks and steps out. "You even have a vanity plate? For a cover ID's car?"

"It's called method acting, Mac. Ask Bozer about it sometime. You have to be fully immersed into the character."

Mac rolls his eyes; Jack has entirely too much fun with these cover IDs. "You do realize that the apostrophe wasn't necessary?"

"Yeah, but it looks way cooler." Jack grins. "Nick's a fan of over-the-top. Which makes him perfect for a street racer." Mac slides in and Jack hands him the packet he picked up from the Phoenix, with everything Mac needs for his own cover ID. He doesn't have a ready-made stash of them like Jack, so he has to go with whatever the techs working to create backstopped covers decide on. He opens the packet and then sighs.

"I think Matty's punishing me for your choice of cover IDs."

"Okay, how bad is it, let me see." Jack reaches for the license Mac is trying to shove into his wallet. "Dude, Tripp Coley? Yeah, she's definitely mad. Or she's seen you fall over your own feet and decided to make a really painful joke."

Mac sighs. I know, I know, I'm a klutz. He's already almost spilled coffee on his shirt this morning.

"Hey, at least she gave you a good picture. One time, I was going undercover in Madrid, and she picked the photo that made me look like I had a double chin and a unibrow." Jack shudders. "It was a dark time."

"When we see Matty again, I'm gonna ask her to stop punishing me for your life choices." Mac slides the license in his wallet and accepts the bagel Jack hands him. He always gets me food when he picks me up. Granted, that's Mac's own fault, because of the one time he told Jack that he broke the toaster trying to make it better and it burnt the bread and set off the fire alarm, so he hadn't eaten. Now Jack just assumes I never eat in the morning.

Mac tries to make sure none of the crumbs or cream cheese get anywhere in the car. The first time Jack brought me food, he made me stand outside the car until I finished. And then he started just insisting I make sure I used the takeout bag as a plate. Now he doesn't even say anything. Mac's pretty sure he's the only one allowed to eat in the GTO, Jack scolded Riley just a couple days ago for bringing in a bag of Doritos. I guess those are messier, with the powder all over them, but still.

"Hey, if you really hate the name, we could go back to me calling you Carl's Jr."

"Please don't. And anyway, it wouldn't make sense with this cover name."

"Why not? Your middle name could be Angus." Jack smirks evilly. "Now there's a good cover name. 'Tripp Angus Coley'."

"If you keep talking, I'm gonna sabotage your car so the wheels all fall off and it catches on fire in the first race." He enunciates every word with vicious clarity.

"As cool as that would look, I'm gonna pass." Jack pulls out onto the road.

"Where are we going?" Mac asks.

"LAPD arrested a few of these racers before. Only one address is still current. A guy by the name Julian Ramone, in Westlake." Jack takes a corner just a little too fast. "Street racing is like Fight Club. The first rule is, you don't talk to anyone who isn't part of the in group. Doing undercovers in organizations like this is always tricky. They don't trust outsiders and they're not very accepting of a new face. That's why no one can get the race locations. They don't post flyers around town saying 'hey, we're going to be holding an illegal race at this time, on these roads'."

Mac nods, he read the briefing too. "So showing up in person is going to help?" He hopes Jack doesn't plan on interrogating this guy into giving them the location. I guess we'll do whatever we have to to keep those guns from hitting the streets, but I don't want to hurt anyone unless we have to.

"There's only one way to get the attention of a guy like that," Jack says. "Well, two, but I don't really have the body of a pin-up poster." He chuckles and slips into a narrow gap in the traffic. "So this baby's gonna have to do." He runs a hand over the steering wheel.

The dumpy little apartment building in Westlake reminds Mac a little too much of the one they tracked Pena...or now, the Ghost...to last year. They've heard nothing about him since that failed bombing and that police ceremony last year; according to Jack's old EOD friend Charlie, the Ghost has gone to ground. Mac hates that there's never anything new to tell the man's wife when he visits. She still isn't going to get closure, not until we find out something to help. But Annabelle is growing fast, and she's incredibly smart. Mac really hopes he can figure out a way for her and Valerie Lawson to meet, he thinks those two would get along like a house on fire. That's always such an odd expression. I've seen a lot of buildings on fire, and usually there's nothing that good about it.

"Do you think we missed him?" Mac asks.

"Nah. He works nights at a chemical plant as a janitor, and then he has a noon to eight shift three days a week at a car repair. He should be getting ready to leave for that job right about now." Jack glances out the window. "Dollars to donuts it's gonna be the dude in the tricked out Camaro right there."

Sure enough, a sleek red muscle car is pulling out of the carport next to the apartments. It looks out of place in the shabby neighborhood. Mac guesses the car is probably Ramone's one luxury in life.

Jack puts the GTO in gear and pulls out after him, getting in the lane beside the red car. He weaves in and out of traffic to make sure that when they get to a red light, he can pull up directly beside the other vehicle.

Jack rolls down his window, leans out, and yells. "Hey! She all looks, or she got anything good under that hood?"

Ramone glares at him, and the light turns green, allowing them both to pull away. Ramone pushes his car a little faster, now his rear bumper is even with Jack's front tire. Jack honks at the slower car in front of him and gets a middle finger out the window in response. He revs the engine and Mac sees the Camaro inch forward.

"What are you doing?" Mac asks.

"Getting myself invited to a race."

"By pissing him off?"

"By challenging him." Jack revs the engine again.

"If we get in trouble for racing here…"

"It's part of the job. We have to score an invite, and the only way to do that is to impress him." Mac tries not to think about what happens if they get arrested. They'll find out my cover IDs don't match my prints. He's still not used to not having to watch his every move and worry about that ankle tether that was part of his original parole terms. He doesn't want to go back to that. Penny would be really disappointed. He only has a few more monthly meetings with her now.

"Chill, dude. It's way too congested to actually race. I just want to make him interested."

The next stop light is just turning red as they approach. Mac's afraid Ramone might run it, trying to put some distance between them, but he puts on the brakes and stops right beside Jack's car again. He got arrested for illegal racing three times; I saw his sheet. No wonder he wants to actually obey the rules. Mac is legally allowed to drive now, on probationary status only, but he hasn't gotten behind the wheel yet. LA traffic is stressful, and he's scared of accidentally breaking a law or even getting into an accident that isn't his fault. I don't know what I'd do when the police showed up. He's sort of afraid he'd be one of those people who just starts crying. I really hope that wouldn't happen, but I'm just scared. Even when Jack is driving, seeing a police car makes him nervous.

This time, when the light turns, Jack gets the lead. He's almost a car and a half in front of Ramone when they get to the garage where the guy works. It's a big place, buzzing with activity. Almost twice as big as Weathers's. This garage has ten bays and a separate building for less-invasive work like oil changes and tire maintenance.

Jack pulls in and parks, and when Ramone gets out of his car, he walks over. Mac notices Jack's stride has totally changed. It's not the carefully balanced, cobra-ready-to-strike way the former Delta usually carries himself. This is loose and free and more than a little cocky. Mac follows him, considerably less confidently.

"That's a sweet ride, man," Jack says. Ramone just glares at him.

"What were you trying to pull out there?"

"I'm bored. This city is so slow ." Jack glances toward the traffic crawling by on the street. "I'm used to running her flat out on the open road."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have moved to LA." Ramone tries to move past them, to the garage, but Mac steps in front of him, trying to look more intimidating than he feels. Just do what Jack does. He crosses his arms and plants his feet, wishing he was just a little taller. Those couple inches make a world of difference. And the fact that Jack just somehow exudes authority. Mac feels like a golden retriever next to a Rottweiler or German shepherd.

"Yeah, but I heard they've got a great street scene." Jack glances at the car. Mac can see, now that they're closer, a few long scrapes in the paint, some dents and places where it looks like a tire's rubbed up on a curb hard. This car has been taken care of religiously. That's new damage; or it would be repaired and covered up by now. Clearly a few arrests haven't stopped Ramone's addiction to speed and danger.

One of the mechanics steps out of the building, wiping his hands on a blue shop towel. "Hey Ramone, these guys making trouble?"

"They're looking for some action, Juli." Ramone is clearly one of the underdogs here; Mac can tell he's deferring to this "Juli" for what should be done about them. Probably the fact that he keeps getting caught keeps him on a low rung in the group. Most of these guys would take pride in being able to outrun any cops after them.

Apparently street racing isn't too different from any other gang. Juli nods to Ramone, who slips past Mac and heads for the office. Then he turns to Jack, clearly sizing him up as the one closest to his rank. The two square off, and Mac's a little concerned there's going to be a punch thrown.

"You mess with one of my guys, mohawk, you mess with me." Juli's voice bites.

"Hey, if he can't play with the big dogs, he shouldn't act like it. I was just testing his ride." Jack shrugs. "Tough to do in LA traffic. But I did beat him here. He's probably just sore about it."

Juli frowns and crosses his arms. "He wasn't out there looking for trouble."

"In a car like that? He's asking for someone to show him up." Jack glances at the heavily modified vehicle. "There's no way that's not racing mods. I'm guessing she's got what, a 425 horse under there?" Juli says nothing. He looks Jack's GTO over, frowning.

"Yeah, I know the old girl don't look like much, but I never could bear to change her up. She belonged to my pops, and what can I say, I'm a little sentimental. But she doesn't need to look flashy to run like hell."

"You gonna give me a name, or do I have to call my guys and have them tow you out?"

Jack flashes the guy a confident grin and holds out his hand. "I'm Nicky Stokes, and this here's my mechanic, Tripp."

"Julio Gomez." The man holds out his hand. Mac flinches. He's the nephew of one of the big dogs in the La Ola cartel. They've definitely found the right crew.

---

Riley's phone buzzes while she's finishing coding the last of the bugs she and Cage are planning to plant in the ambassador's office. Hey, might as well go all the way as long as we're going to be inside anyway. She glances at it, hoping the caller ID isn't for her mom. It's not. It's Matty.

She picks up immediately. "Hi Matty."

"You were expecting someone else?" Busted. Cage might be the best interrogator Riley's ever met, but Matty can play in the same league.

"Yeah..."

"There are only three people in the world you'd sound relieved to hear me instead of, so I know it was either Diane, Elwood, or Patty you were expecting." Matty sighs. "And seeing that Diane is the one who recently accepted a promotion in Los Angeles, I'm fairly certain it was her."

"You're doing running background checks on my mom? Why am I not surprised." Riley chuckles. "But yes, she's coming into town, and she wants to stay with me for a couple weeks while she finds her own place." She still hasn't listened to the voicemail Diane left her while she was getting fitted for that dress with Sam. She's going to be apologetic and offer to get a hotel. Which is definitely going to guilt Riley into telling her she can stay.

"Are you concerned about being able to do your job with her there?" Matty asks. "There are a few unused Phoenix apartments we could offer; it couldn't be permanent, but…"

"It's fine, I can handle it. My family is my problem, I can't ask the agency to bend over backward for that. It'll only be a couple weeks. It's just like any other undercover." Except I don't get to go home and take off the mask. I have to put it on when I walk through my own door.

She wishes she could talk to Jack, but he's off on an op with Mac and she doesn't dare call him. It feels so strange to not be working right alongside him. Five years of being partners means she's gotten used to being able to turn around and have Jack right there at her side. He's always been there for me, whatever I need. She knows she's ready for this change, that she's more than capable of leading her own team, from a tactical and experience standpoint. But not having Jack just feels wrong.

He's proud of me for making it to this point, for getting the promotion. And both of them know that this has always been part of the plan. Jack was supposed to train me, to turn me into a field agent as competent and qualified as he is. But she'd always assumed that she was being groomed to take his place when he retires, not to suddenly be given command of her own team and her own missions, while Jack is still on his own.

I'm going to do this mission, and it's going to go fine. She knows she can pull this one off, it's nothing she hasn't done a hundred times. But Jack won't be outside the party in the surveillance van, telling her she's doing great, and complaining that he's stuck in the car, and asking her to sneak him out food from the buffet.

Riley sighs and leans on her desk. Eventually, I'll get used to it. I'll make it work. But she really, really hates the thought of that.

---

JULI'S GARAGE

THEY'RE DEFINITELY IN THE RIGHT PLACE

Mac listens to Jack bragging up his cover ID's track record, and shakes his head. Jack really likes selling a big story. But in a crowd like this, some exaggeration just makes him fit right in. Three of the guys who aren't currently working on vehicles have come over to listen to Jack and Julio. It seems like this garage is actually more or less a front for the racers to bring in their cars and repair or improve them. A few normal cars are going in and out, and Mac can see some body work being done on a partially crashed Toyota at the end of the row of work bays, but there are too many modified cars here to represent the normal LA driving scene.

"How come I never heard of you, if you're so good?" Julio leans back on his car, a sleek Dodge Charger with flashy detailing.

"Cause up till a week ago, I was burning rubber in Vegas." It's much easier, Mac's learned, to sell a cover long-distance. Phones can be hijacked and calls rerouted, or informers can simply be bought off to spread whatever information is needed. Jack grins. "I got tired of winning all the time, and I heard the LA scene was impressive."

"Hey kid, why don't you bring that car in here and give us a look at what's under the hood?" One of the other guys says. Jack turns and tosses Mac the keys, and he slides in. Please don't let me do any damage. He's driven so many cars into work bays that it's nearly second nature, but he doesn't want to do anything to Jack's precious car.

He parks the GTO and pops the hood, showing the men the engine underneath. He's spent plenty of time with Jack fine-tuning it, so he can talk about it just as easily as if he actually was the mechanic he claims to be. He runs through the key points quickly, size, compression, horsepower, special modifications, and then steps back to let the racers check it out for themselves.

"Come on back, have a beer and tell us everything about Vegas." Julio claps Jack on the arm. Mac can sense the threat underneath. They want to see if his stories check out. If he does know what he should about street racing, about people they might know in Vegas. Mac's seen the same thing in prison, when supposed gang members arrive. If no one from the gang they claim affiliation with knows them, there are tests, like this. To be sure they're not a plant. Mac's never actually seen a case of police planting an informant, it's more of a prison urban legend than anything, but gangs are always incredibly careful.

He already knows he's not welcome back there. He's not the racer, these men are going to put him on an even lower rung than Ramone. I'm just good with the engines. He decides to really sell his cover and take advantage of being in the shop to do some work. He's been thinking about how to make sure Jack can actually follow through on his boasts, and there are a few things he can do to the engine. I'm not going to wreck it like I did that rental in Mission City, but I can do some things on the same concept that are less drastic than ripping out the air filter and adding hydrogen peroxide.

He's making a few last adjustments to the air intakes, hoping they can squeeze just a little more out of the engine, when someone slams into him from behind, hard enough to jolt him into dropping the wrench.

"Sorry, I can move," he apologizes, even though technically he wasn't in the way. They could have gone around the other end of the car. But they're probably giving the new guy grief.

The man doesn't move, and Mac shudders as he feels hips grind against him. That's not someone trying to squeeze past, that's intentional. He knows the difference all too well. And he can feel a lot more of this stranger's body than he wants to...

"J-just leave me alone, I'm busy." He hates, hates, that stupid voice crack.

"That what you tell your friend, too?"

"I don't know what you mean…" Mac hates how lame it sounds, because even he can tell he's lying through his teeth. He knows exactly what this man is insinuating. Mac wishes he could say he's surprised, but he's really not. Got wolf-whistled more than a few times when I was working at Weathers's. Apparently a guy bent over an engine is some kind of turn-on. Back then, he just laughed when the other mechanics teased him about being the one everyone brought their cars in just to get to see. It isn't funny anymore.

"Oh, come on, the way you were looking there, you've got to have some experience. You're probably used to a private garage, aren't you? Just you and your friend and whatever car he feels like bending you over today."

"I-it's not like that. He doesn't…I'm not..." Mac protests, feeling himself start to shake. If he does anything, Jack's not here and these guys won't defend me, not against one of their own. It's up to Mac to defend himself, and he knows exactly how well that went in prison. I have a lot more training now, but he's still bigger than me, and he has me pinned.

"Tells you to make sure no one else gets any, huh?" The man runs a hand down Mac's leg, and he gasps, shuddering more and feeling tears prick at his eyes. Please, don't do this. "He afraid you're gonna find out he's not all that great and want someone who can give you what you really want?"

Mac's fingers find one of the socket wrenches, and he clenches his hand around it. It's not the best weapon, but at least he's not totally defenseless. Please go away. Please. He doesn't want to get them in trouble, to risk their covers, but he isn't going to let this man hurt him. I don't have to stand here and take this. Jack would be the first to tell him that. "Leave me alone." This time, his voice doesn't crack.

A door slams open, and the man backs off, sliding away. Mac collapses over the engine, panting, leaning his cheek on the cool, greasy metal. He needs to get a grip, he has to act like everything is fine. Nothing happened. I'm okay. But the only thing he can think of is Jack, where is Jack? He wouldn't let that happen. Where is he?

---

Jack tries to force himself to stay relaxed as he trades stories with the racers. As far as he can tell, none of them come from the Vegas scene or have close connections to anyone there, but he can't be fully certain. He sticks to what he knows from his own research of the street racing groups there, and tries not to be overly specific. It sounds counterintuitive, but using exact dates isn't really a good way to gain trust. Talking about Tony Samaro wrecking on April 9th last year is too exact, saying it was in the spring sounds more natural and legitimate. Unless it's something truly earth-shattering, normal people don't really remember specific dates.

He laughs about crazy wrecks and shows off scars that he can claim are from driving, and swaps stories of close calls with the cops. And when he gets up for a second beer, he slips one of Riley's wireless bugs under the table. Bugging an office is kind of old-school, but it could still get us something. Now that people use cell phones, it's impossible to predict exactly where conversations about deals and illegal stuff might take place. If Riley was here she could clone his phone and scan his emails and texts. But she's off running her own op, so Jack's left to get this the really old-fashioned way. If he wants incontestable proof these guys are running guns, he needs to get them to tell him themselves.

"You're welcome at the shop anytime," Juli says. "As long as next time, the beer's on you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

Jack steps outside. Time ran away from him in there, it's almost four thirty, and the last of the normal clientele are pulling out. He wanders along the row of muscle cars, most of which have their hoods up. He admires the work, these cars are all built for as much speed as possible over short distances. But that doesn't matter unless you have a driver who knows how to handle it.

He's checking out the Mustang Cobra when he hears someone step up behind him.

"Surprised you're taking the time to pretend you know what you're looking at, Stokes." He recognizes the voice. Hector Ruiz, one of the guys who seemed less inclined to believe he was legitimate, or at least to believe his bravado. "No one's watching you now."

"Clearly you are. And what exactly are you implying? That because I have a mechanic I don't need to know how to do it myself?" He can start naming off every piece of the engine if that will satisfy this guy.

"Real racers work on their own cars." There's nothing friendly in Ruiz's eyes. "I wouldn't trust another pair of hands under my hood."

Jack shakes his head. "Then you haven't seen my guy work. He's a magician with these things, man." He glances at where Mac's tweaking something on the GTO's engine. "Boosted my top speed by fifteen miles per hour and stopped the shimmy she was doing at 120."

"But he doesn't drive?"

"Nah. Got in a nasty wreck a couple years ago, kinda messed him up." Jack taps his head. "He won't get behind the wheel anymore."

"Seems to me like you're taking advantage of a tragedy," Ruiz mutters, and Jack doesn't like the look in his eyes. Mac's bent over under the hood, and Jack's suddenly aware of what that position would look like to someone intent on one thing. "You sure your pretty boy mechanic isn't actually real good at revving a different kinda engine?"

"That ain't how it is." Jack wants to take a swing, but he can't afford to let his temper get the best of him.

Ruiz shrugs, but his eyes are glued to where Mac is still leaning over the engine. Jack shudders. You come near him, and I'll put you in the ground, mission be damned.

He purposefully walks over to Mac; he needs to be right there, making sure no one else is going to act on any ideas they might have about Mac's reasons for being here.

"You about ready to close her down and hit the road?"

"Learn anything?" Mac asks. He's just finishing with the carburetor he's been tuning up, wiping his tools on a grimy rag and putting them away. There's grease stains all over his face, his hands are black, and he looks even younger than normal.

"Nothing important."

"What was he going on about?" Mac says, sounding way too flippant to be casually asking. He heard everything, but he wants to know if I'll tell him.

"He thought I was keeping you around for a lot more than twistin' some bolts." Jack shakes his head. "I made it real clear that wasn't the case. But I'd stay away from him if I were you."

"If I avoided every guy who looked at me like that, we'd never get anything done." Jack flinches at how casually Mac says it. He just knows that way too many people are going to see him first and foremost as an object. And even worse, he's accepted it.

"Gimme their names."

Mac looks like he wants to, there's something shaken under the composed front he's trying to put up. But then he shakes his head. "J-Nick...we can't afford to start something. Not now. I'm fine. As long as they think you've got some kinda claim, they'll probably leave me alone." Jack rubs a hand over his face. Mac is right. As long as they don't push things, don't challenge anyone else's assumptions, it'll probably be okay. But there's always that chance that it won't be.

Jack steps into his car, and just as he's about to pull out, Julio steps out of the building, holding his cell phone. Yep. He made me feel like we were all good, and then he made his calls. Jack knows the man was hoping he'd let his guard down, if this was a trick. But apparently Phoenix's backstopped cover is holding up, because Juli's grinning.

He doesn't say a thing. Better he thinks I don't know he was digging. That it wouldn't make an ounce of difference to me. He can't afford to make the guy wonder why Jack is so concerned that his story needs to check out. Jack swings out of the lot and into the beginnings of rush hour traffic. Well, that went well. The sooner they can put this case and these guys in the rearview, the better Jack will feel. He's definitely going to be keeping a much closer eye on Mac from now on.

---

Bozer can tell something's wrong when Mac walks in the door. He doesn't immediately drop to his knees and start tussling with Mickey, and he jumps when Bozer walks out from around the kitchen island.

"How did it go out there?" He asks.

"Jack's got a whole bunch of new friends. He's in, so it's all good."

"It's not all good, you look...well, you don't look good." Bozer is for once at a loss for a good description. Mac is pale and shaky and there's a hunted, haunted look in his eyes.

"I'm okay." Mac shakes his head.

"Mac, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." Boze puts a hand gently on Mac's shoulder. "Come on, man, you gotta tell me what's going on."

"It was just...at the garage…" Mac shudders. "I'm used to it, it's not important."

Bozer knows exactly what he's talking about. He's known since Mac walked through the door, because that look in his eyes is the same as after Bishop prison, as after Murdoc. "It is important, Mac, and no one should ever be used to it." He worried about Mac all through high school; but then at least Bozer could protect him. When Mac got sent to prison, he was all alone. And now he's out there in the field, where Jack is supposed to be watching his back…

"You didn't have to let them do something to keep your cover, did you?" Boze doesn't care what orders were, Mac shouldn't be subjected to that. I can't imagine Jack letting it happen, though. He'd break every rule in the book if he had to, to protect Mac. Bozer's at least willing to accept Mac risking his life when he has Jack to watch his back.

"No, and nothing happened. It just startled me." Mac shrugs, a forced casualness that doesn't match the strain in his eyes and in his tense shoulders.

"And Jack…" Boze is surprised no one is missing limbs after something like that.

"Jack doesn't know. I can't afford to mess up the op by complaining; it's my problem and I'll handle it. If Jack knew he'd want to pull me, and I can still do this. I'm fine." Mac pointedly steps away and into the kitchen, clearly he wants this conversation over. It's not fair that this always happens to him. Bozer knows Riley talks about missions that make her want to take three-hour showers afterward, but she's also been trained to deal with people's treatment of her, to either fight back or use that interest against them. Mac got thrown into a terrible situation without any plan for how to survive it.

"You made a pot pie?" Mac's smile is totally genuine this time. Bozer grins.

"Yep." Bozer isn't able to make as many carefully fussed-over meals as he used to, but his chicken pot pie requires minimal effort and lasts at least a couple days unless they're feeding a group. And we had to do something with that leftover chicken. "Should be almost done. Hey, don't touch the oven." Bozer shoos Mac away, waving his hot pads mock-menacingly. "I swear, all you have to do is put a finger on it and things burn." He glances inside. "If you want to help, feed Mickey so he's not underfoot the second I take this thing out."

Mickey stays out of the way, thankfully, and Bozer's perfectly browned pot pie makes it to the table in one piece. Not that that lasts long. They're both on their second slice before either of them actually feel like talking again.

Bozer didn't want to dump his own complicated life on Mac while his friend was still dealing with issues of his own, but Mac seems to be over at least the initial trauma of the day, and Boze isn't going to be able to keep this news a secret any longer anyway. "Thornton's talking about sending me to official training. Apparently there's a new session starting at the academy next month."

Boze isn't sure how he feels about this. I guess everyone thought I wouldn't need training, because all I wanted to be was a lab tech and I only went on a few supposedly low-risk missions. And then I got stabbed right there in the middle of the Phoenix. Apparently they've realized that no place is actually safe and he ought to have at least some idea of how to protect himself.

"Really?" Mac grins. "What did you do? She hasn't even threatened me with that."

"I guess she wanted me to go when I first joined, but then she had to leave and Matty never did anything about it." He shrugs. "It doesn't sound so bad. I guess it's 'everything you need to know about being a spy' somehow condensed into four weeks. So like that film school seminar thing I did but way more intense."

"But she didn't say anything about me?" The worry in Mac's voice is so heartbreaking. He's constantly afraid of making a mistake and being punished for it. Bozer knows that's got to be a byproduct of James's brand of shitty parenting. I'm with Jack when it comes to that whole mess. Mac's better off leaving that guy to someone else. Because even if he does find him, how is he gonna face down the man who controlled his whole life for ten years, and managed to leave permanent damage? Boze doesn't want to think of Mac coming face to face with that abusive jerk again. All James will do will be tear at the scars he's left and reopen old wounds.

Bozer shakes his head, at the very least he can reassure Mac that he hasn't done something unforgivable. "Nope. Sounds like I'm the only one going. I guess she figures if you've spent almost a year in the field already and haven't died yet, that there's probably nothing they can teach you you don't already know." Mac's years as a vigilante probably count for something too.

"The problem is, the academy's in Virginia. So I'll be there a whole month, and you'll be here by yourself."

"I'll try not to burn the house down while you're gone." Mac chuckles.

"Oh, no. I am going to make enough pre-cooked meals to last you the whole month, and all you are doing is popping them in the microwave. I'll even make sure none of them have foil on them." Bozer shakes his head. "You are not touching the stove, the grill, or anything else flammable while I'm not here."

"It's not that bad."

"Mac, you burned a pot of boiled noodles last week." He still doesn't know how that happened. Apparently Mac let the macaroni boil over, and didn't notice until the whole pot of noodles were scorched to the bottom of the pan and setting off the smoke alarm. I shudder to think what would happen if he tried to make more than one thing at the same time. "At least have Jack or Riley over if you're going to attempt to make anything yourself. Then at least someone will be there to help you put out the fire." And will probably have ordered takeout in advance.

"A month won't be bad." Mac helps himself to more of the food. He's finally eating like a normal person again. Bozer had been worried about him after that mission where he had to work with Murdoc. He just stops eating when he's stressed out, and it's never good.

"Well, now I know you won't starve, but we still have a few problems. We'll need to find someone to look after Mickey while I'm there and you're on missions." Mac nods.

This worked fine when I had a semi-normal schedule at the Phoenix. But if Boze is going to be spending a month in training, no one will be home to let Mickey out. And he doesn't really want to ask Mrs. Schwartz to do it; the grandmotherly old woman would insist it was no problem at all, but she did have knee surgery this year and Bozer would hate for the dog to injure her. Mickey's got a lot of energy.

"I've got an idea."

Mac pulls out his phone, and when he calls, the person who answers is clearly audible, even though he doesn't have the speaker option on. "This is Penny, hey how's it going, Mac? Do we need to reschedule again?" Matty is the only other person I know who has a phone voice like that.

"Penny, how would you feel about watching a dog for a few weeks?"

---

JULI'S GARAGE

NOT A LOT OF GOOD MEMORIES HERE

Jack apologized nonstop in the car after Mac finally broke and told him what happened in the garage. But there's nothing he can do about it. We need to keep these guys happy if we want to get proof they're running guns. And Mac doesn't even know who it was that attacked him. He can't tell if that's better or worse.

He's not sure how he feels about going back to the garage again today, but he knows that the faster Jack makes friends with these guys, the more they'll trust him, and the faster they'll be willing to cut him in on the gun running. And once they do, the case is over.

Mac makes sure the car is parked in the end bay of the garage, so no one has an excuse to push past him for anything. He's jumpy, but he tries not to flinch every time someone walks by. They're mostly chatting in Spanish amongst themselves, but he has a decent grasp of several different dialects from listening in on cartels, spending time with Carlos, and from prison. He can tell some of them are talking about him, and it's not anything he really wanted to hear.

He tries to tune it out and focus on working on the car. There isn't really anything he actually needs to do, Jack keeps this car purring like a kitten, but staying busy means he doesn't have to think about what these guys think of him.

When he hears footsteps coming his way, he straightens up abruptly, knocking his head on the hood and wincing at his inescapable clumsiness. That always makes me look like an even easier target . But it's not one of the men. It's a girl probably a couple years younger than him, in grease-stained coveralls. He vaguely remembers seeing her working on a Honda yesterday, at the far end of the garage.

"Guess your friend got the okay to play with the big boys. Wondered if you were gonna be coming back. I'm Melina." The girl pushes strands of her dark ponytail out of her face.

"Tripp." He holds out a hand and then thinks better of it, he's been digging through the engine all morning. She grabs it anyway and shakes it, her own hand is equally filthy.

She glances at the GTO's engine. "Heard Jorge was giving you a hard time yesterday."

"It's not a big deal," Mac turns back to the engine.

"He's just a big bully. You fight back, he'll leave you alone." She grins. "Next time you see him, take a look at his left cheek. I left him a little something to remember me by. He hasn't tried to touch me since."

"Thanks for the advice."

"He and Hector Ruiz and Diego Rojas are trouble. They're just gross pigs." She spits. "But Ruiz is the one you really need to watch out for. He's not all talk." Mac has the feeling she's speaking from experience.

"And you still work here with guys like that?" He doesn't think he could stand it. If this wasn't an op that I know will be over soon, I'd dread coming here every single day. He already does, but he just knows it's not permanent.

"My sister is Juli's girlfriend. After our mom died he gave me the job here so I could stay in our apartment." She shrugs. "It's all I'm good at, really. I wasn't smart enough to go anywhere else, and doing this gives me money in my pocket and lets me wear something other than skimpy dresses and leather thigh-highs."

Mac knows the neighborhood isn't great. He spent plenty of time in Westlake as a vigilante and saw hookers dressed just like Melina is describing. A lot of girls either lose the family's provider to the drug wars, or they get in with a guy who's part of a cartel and start getting turned out to bring in even more money. He'd always pitied them, when he saw them. Now, it's an even more visceral sympathy.

Melina goes back to the car she was working on, a lime-green Challenger that's clearly one of the racing cars. But this one looks like it's been doing more than street racing, there's a thin film of dust all over the car and the tires are full of stones and caked sand.

Melina reaches inside and turns the key, and then engine cranks over but growls to a stop. Sounds like it's not getting fuel... "Damn it!" She sighs. "This one's shot. I can't figure out what's wrong with her."

"There's no gas getting to the engine," Mac says.

"I know. I replaced every inch of the fuel line. There wasn't a break anywhere, but it still won't run." Mac looks from the engine to the tires. There was something that used to happen to the older cars during some of the races in Mission City. The ones that got beat around a lot and took underbody damage sometimes got holes in the line that runs from the outside of the car to the gas tank.

He slides down underneath the car and instantly sees the problem, a gouge right where he expected it, in the pipe. It looks like the car banged over a rock or kicked up something nasty, and it left a gash.

"You've got a hole in your filling pipe down here. Looks like a bunch of sand got kicked in, and it got driven anyway. Probably wrecked your injectors at this point. You're gonna need to flush the whole system and replace anything the sand got into."

Melina makes quick work of removing the injectors and checking them, and she looks fairly impressed to realize he's right. "How did you know what to look for?"

"I've only ever seen that on dirt track racers," Mac explains. "Used to work around those growing up." That's a lot of sand run up in that engine. Wonder what they were doing to get it that clogged?

It looks like he's just found one of the cars they're using to run across the border. He commits the license number to memory; he'll tell Jack when he comes out from talking with the guys. Mac gets the feeling that the men in the back room are the ones who are the top dogs. It doesn't sound like Melina knows anything about what they're really doing with the cars; she clearly didn't know how this one had been damaged. They probably only let a few trusted people in. Jack's going to have to work hard to be one of them. He wonders how long it's going to take to get them to trust him.

He tries to ignore the looks he can feel directed at him, and the conversations he hears that some of the men don't even bother to try and disguise from him. I don't know how much longer I can do this. He can fight back, if they try anything, but it's almost more painful just to listen, because all the memories of prison keep flooding back. I wish I could make them stop. But I can't afford to ruin our chances here. It's possible that sticking up for himself wouldn't hurt their covers at all, but he doesn't want to risk making the wrong person angry. They might tell Jack to leave. Worse, they might ask him to let these guys do what they want to me. And he knows Jack will refuse. He will. He would never let them do that to me.

He slumps against the side of the car in relief when Jack walks out less than fifteen minutes later. We can leave now, it's gonna be okay. Julio is smiling and clapping Jack on the back, clearly he's a little buzzed from the beers. Jack seems perfectly sober. He was the one who had to buy all of it today. Mac grins just a little.

Julio waves his hand toward the car, and Mac can just vaguely hear him say something to Jack. "You're a lotta talk, Stokes, but I wanna see this baby in action. Saturday, ten p.m. at the corner of Grand and the second alley. Then we'll find out just how lucky you are, Vegas."

"Looking forward to it." Jack grins and gets in his car, revving the engine more than necessary as they pull out.

Mac waits until they're on the road to let out a shuddering sigh of relaxation. One more day, and this is all over.

---

WAR ROOM

THERE ARE FEWER PEOPLE HERE THAN RILEY IS USED TO

It feels odd to be doing the pre-mission briefing herself. It feels even odder to be doing it in front of only two people, Sam and Matty. The mission itself is straightforward, they just need to get the access information for the Chinese ambassador's offshore bank accounts to prove he's being paid off by an arms dealer to cover illegal shipments of high-grade weapons. But Riley fumbles her information twice in the fifteen minute briefing, and forgets an important piece of the plan until Cage asks a question about it.

She knows she messed up, but Matty for once says absolutely nothing. When she leaves, and Riley starts packing up her rig to get ready to leave, Sam walks up to her. Riley knows that look, it never means the conversation is going to be a comfortable one.

"Riley, what's eating you?"

"Nothing." Riley can be professional. She can put the mission first.

"That's your mom's name? I thought it was Diane," Cage says casually. First Matty, now Cage, I can't get away with anything around here. She told Jack about the whole thing via text last night, and she knows the situation is as uncomfortable for him as it is for her. But these separate missions don't leave them much time to talk. "You clearly aren't comfortable with the idea of her moving in with you."

"It's just…"

"I know what you're going to tell me. That she could compromise everything. But be honest with yourself, Riley, that's not the real reason you hate the idea of living with her."

Riley raises an eyebrow, she knows exactly what's coming.

"You think if she moves back in, you go back to being Riley Davis, your mother's little girl."

Riley nods, sighing. "Every time I came home, she made me feel...like a child. I couldn't tell her the truth about what I do for a living, so she doesn't realize how many risks I take, how many times I've almost died. So she still just asks me to load the dishwasher and take out the trash."

"And that bothers you."

"I feel like she can't see me." Riley shrugs. "But what really bothers me is that I'm okay with it." She sighs. It's easy. It's easy to pretend, to act normal. But it's a giant lie. Mom doesn't know a thing about the real me. She knows a ghost. Someone who doesn't exist anymore. And somehow, I'm totally fine with letting that go on.

"You think because you need to lie to her about your job, she doesn't know the real you anymore." Sam looks down at her hands, and then back up at Riley. "You're so much more than this job, Riley. And I'm sure she has plenty of chances to see someone who's kind, and selfless, and brave, and smart, and independent."

Riley smiles, but she refuses to let this get overly sappy. I can't do emotional right now… "And here I thought you were going to call me messy, disorganized, and say I have infuriatingly bad taste in music."

"I was trying to make you feel better, but if you wanted honesty…" Sam laughs. "I'll warn her she should guard her overnight oatmeal if she wants to avoid poisoning."

"Remind me again why we're friends?"

"Because I know all your deepest, darkest secrets." Cage chuckles. "And I can either be your best friend…"

"Or your worst enemy," Riley echoes the end, laughing.

---

Jack briefly sees Riley in the hall on his way to give Matty the update on the situation. She looks stressed out, and maybe it's just this mission, but he's got a feeling it's got more to do with the thing about her mom.

To be honest I'm not too enthusiastic either. It's been years since we dated but I don't know if she still hates me or not. Riley says she never even talks about me, unless something about Riley's fake job comes up. He knows Riley's been trying to push a reconciliation, but it sounds like Diane wants nothing to do with it. I don't blame her. I stood her up over and over, and it's not fair to ask her to live around my insane work schedule.

That doesn't mean there isn't still a bit of a wish buried somewhere that wants to see her again and see if there's still something there. Riley says she hasn't dated again since. So either I permanently scarred her for dating, or she misses what we had. He's afraid it's the first option.

But he has bigger problems than his failed love life at the moment. He has an op he needs to wrap up before something really bad happens to Mac.

"I've got the location of the next race. I'll need to put together a tac team to nail them before they get the chance to run. Because if we lose them, we're never gonna catch them."

"We still need some kind of proof they're actually doing something illegal besides the races," Matty says. "If we want to totally shut down the operation."

"Can't we just nail them for racing and figure everything else out later?"

"It's possible, but risky. We'd rather take them down for the gun-running, if possible." Jack knows Matty is right. Her job is to see the big picture, to be an impartial observer. And busting these guys for the real charges will mean they don't have a chance to post bail and skip town.

"I don't know how far I can push. These guys have lasted this long because they don't trust easily. It could take weeks or months to get in deep enough to get that kind of information, and we don't have that time. That shipment of G-36s is probably due to be run any day now." And Mac's getting closer and closer to his breaking point. Jack can tell he's struggling; there's visible relief in his face whenever they leave the garage.

He hates how often Mac is treated like this. It's almost as if there's some kind of beacon or a 'kick me' sign on him that labels him fair game for those stares and comments. I feel like I worry about him as much as I do Riley. Maybe even more. He's always known the risks Riley faces out in the field, for sure, and there have been more than a few close calls, but there have also been several shattered wrists and broken noses. Riley has a fight instinct in those situations, and years of training. Mac tries to fight back, but the amount of trauma he's had already usually ends up making him shut down; his reaction is to retreat and ignore. And no matter how much Jack's trained him, it hasn't been long enough yet for that to be muscle memory.

Jack wonders if there's some kind of noticeable evidence that Mac's been victimized. Do people who think like that see the worry in his eyes when someone brushes against him?

Matty's phone buzzes, and she glances at it. "Looks like LAPD just picked up one of your friends, Diego Rojas, for a domestic violence call. Sounds pretty nasty; I don't think he's going to be seeing the light of day for a while."

This is exactly the break Jack needed. We're desperate because we're running out of time. But they're running out of time too. They can't store those guns forever, and now they're down a man. I might be able to slide into his place, if I can prove I'm good enough and can be trusted.

"Matty, I'm gonna need you to hold off on that tac team. I need to make sure there's no trouble tomorrow night. Because I'm going to get what I need to take them down."

---

SATURDAY NIGHT

THE CORNER OF GRAND AND THE ALLEY

Jack doesn't have to fake admiring the cars parked in a line down the alley. There's everything from classic 70s to a car he swears shouldn't even have hit the streets yet. He and Mac wander the lineup, discussing the various merits of the vehicles. Mac seems partial to a brown and gold '67 Mustang Fastback, but Jack can't get past the Chevy Impala, the same year as the Fastback. It's jet black with a red pentagram design on the hood, and Jack can see the name "Hell on Wheels" stenciled on the side. There's a kid who reminds him a lot of Mac tinkering around under the hood, and a slightly older guy leaning on the car talking to him. Jack grins, clearly he's not the only one who's part of a mechanic/driver team. Although these two look like siblings.

He wants to stay and talk to them, but he can see Julio and his guys clustered around their cars a little further down the line, and his plan depends on selling them one hell of a story.

He leaves Mac with the GTO. Julio's guys seem to have a hierarchy, and clearly people who aren't drivers aren't welcome in the inner circle. He likes to make sure he keeps his secrets close, that's probably why he's still in business.

He groans theatrically and rubs his back as he walks up. "Damn, moving into a fourth floor apartment is a bitch. Hope I didn't throw my back out again." The best way to sell a lie is to keep most of the truth. Jack's apartment is a fourth floor one. He likes the vantage points. Spend your whole life as a sniper and an overwatch, and you like knowing you have a good view.

"Maybe you should have planned a little better," Ruiz chuckles. "I'm sure you could have found something better than the fourth floor."

"It was that or living outta the cars," Jack mutters. "And at least I didn't have a crap ton of things to carry up there. It wasn't really a planned move if you know what I mean." Jack shrugs. Juli checked my cover, he's got to have seen the faked LVPD and Nevada State warrants out on Nick . "I'm kinda starting over from the ground up. And that apartment was the cheapest I could get. Not even sure I'm gonna make the payments on that and the vehicle storage I rented for next month. I gotta old Shelby that I can't keep in the apartment garages. One car per unit's all they'll allow." Another truth. The Shelby is stored, along with the stuff Momma made him finally move out of his old room at the house in Texas, in a unit a few blocks from the apartment. He really needs to go through that someday…

"Yeah, LA's not cheap." Juli shakes his head. "Not even in the rough parts."

Jack nods. "I'll probably have to sell the Shelby. It would break my heart, but I know one of you guys would treat her right, and I'd much rather she go to you than some collector. She deserves better than dry-rotting on display somewhere. If anyone's interested..."

Ruiz chuckles, and Jack doesn't like the sound. "I got all the wheels I need. But if you're strapped for cash, why don't you just turn out that little puta you got? I guarantee you'd get more for him in the long run than for that Shelby. You'd have guys lined up to have a turn with a pretty boy like that." His husky voice indicates he'd probably be one of the first.

Jack is ready to grab a tire iron and brain someone. "He's not on the table. Ever."

"He sure looks like it, the way he bends over those engines. You know, someday someone's just not gonna ask. You might as well be getting paid for what they're gonna do anyway." Jack clenches his fist tighter, he can feel his fingernails biting into his palm. "You could charge pretty steep, if you wanted. You can tell he'd be worth it."

Jack shakes his head, he thinks if he opens his mouth, he's going to scream.

Jorge speaks up. "Sure looks like he's good with his hands. I'd pay to find out." Jack sees Ruiz nod. This can't be happening. He can't believe these men would pay him to hand Mac over to them.

I'm sure this is what it was like for him in prison. The only value Mac had to anyone was what he was useful to them for. He can't imagine how twisted someone has to be to see a person like that. Because he just wants to be sick at the thought that these people can even assume Jack would ever treat Mac like all he is to him is a quick way to make money.

"I said, he's not for sale. It's the car, or nothing."

"Think about it," Ruiz says. "And let me know if you change your mind." Jack shudders in disgust, but he hides it the best he can and turns back to his car. That didn't go as planned. He feels sick. I need to wrap this op up before they make good on that threat that they'll take what they want without paying. He is not going to be the reason Mac gets traumatized again.

He jumps at the hand on his arm as Juli pulls him aside. "Hey, man, next time they cross the line like that, feel free to give 'em something to remember. I can't be playing favorites to the new guy and giving my own crew a problem, but you look like you can handle yourself anyway." Jack just nods. "You know, if you really want to unload that Shelby, I'd take her. But if you're just looking to score some fast cash, we've got a nice little side business going on. Have you back on your feet in no time."

Jack takes a slow breath. He's not asking about Mac. I hope. "How much are we talking?"

"Five thousand in cash, for one night of work." He grins. "And that's just the starting rate. You do well, you could be making ten a run easy."

"Sounds almost too good to be true. So what do I have to do to make that kinda cash?" He still has to pretend he doesn't know what's really happening here. And it's harder than usual. I'm letting emotions get in the way. But damn it, I don't know who wouldn't after that.

"Tell you what, Stokes. You show me what you're made of, out there, and then I decide if you're in."

---

Jack winks at Mac when he comes to get the GTO. It looks like he's excited about their chances, and Mac really hopes that means they're going to finish this op tonight. He's seen too many people staring at him, and one guy stood way too close and spent way too long supposedly admiring the GTO's engine. Mac thinks he was watching something else, and he's glad it didn't go further. He definitely smelled marijuana on the guy.

Cars are lining up on the street. Jack's not the first race of the night, and Mac watches the two cars that are starting first pull up, revving their engines and drawing cheers or yells from the crowd. Even most of the guys hanging around the cars still in the alley are heading that way; Mac hears several of them making bets on the winners.

They're all watching the racing. It's the perfect time to do a little digging. Mac ignores the little Jack-sounding voice in his head that says this is a bad idea. I'm just gonna look around a little. And if I get caught, I'll tell them I was looking for a tool.

The cars slated for racing are all lined up along the alley, hoods open and engines on display. But there are several more in a garage that backs up onto the alley. It's dark, but Mac can see the graffiti that's specific to the La Ola cartel on some of the bay doors. I wonder if this is one of the places they're stashing guns? La Ola had started decentralizing their drop points around the time he got arrested. They were trying to make their main warehouses harder to find. Only a few people knew the actual location, and they took the guns around and distributed them to smaller holding locations before they got sent out. That way, a bust was more likely to take down one of the small operations.

He ducks inside through one of the side doors and switches on the flashlight on his phone. There are a few cars inside that are definitely legitimately under repair, but he sees a few he recognizes from Julio's shop. I wonder if they use these races as a cover for picking up guns. He remembers from Matty's briefings that most of the runs take place on Sundays. Lots of vehicles in and out, and they always choose locations the cops are less likely to find…

He sees the car Melina was working on, apparently she got it running again. That car was definitely one of the ones that was being used for smuggling; maybe it's here to pick up another load.

Perfect. Mac pulls out a paperclip and starts picking the lock. For things like this the guns are usually stored in false trunk bottoms. If I can just get pictures… He pops the lock open and glances around inside. There's no immediately obvious way to get into a compartment, but he's worked on this make and model before and he can tell the trunk is definitely not as deep as it should be. He taps on it, and there's a hollow sound.

He feels along the edges until he finds something that feels like a narrow metal strip. He tugs on it, and the bottom of the trunk swings up and open, revealing a shallow space underneath.

The compartment is empty, but Mac swipes a finger around the inside and pulls it out, noting the distinctive odor of gun oil. They were definitely running weapons in here. He takes a few photos of the space and then lowers the false bottom again, closing and locking the trunk. Matty has a tac team standing by to raid the second Jack gets his intel, but I still don't want to make anyone suspicious.

Mac bends down to look at the undercarriage. There's still some of the sand flung up in the wheel-wells and the curve of the bumper. Any cars with that kind of debris under them are suspicious. He doesn't have time to pick every trunk lock, but he can get photos of the plates for the cars that have sand in the chassis.

He's at the third car in the line when he hears the door creak. He shuts off his phone's flashlight and ducks low, hoping he can roll under the car before anyone sees him. Unfortunately, it seems like his luck is as bad as always.

"What are you doing back here?" The voice makes him jump, and he scrambles to his feet guiltily. If I try to hide I'll make it worse, and they'll know something's wrong . Julio's crew are standing there.

"Um...I need an impact wrench?" Mac deadpans. "Ours broke."

"Like this one?" Ruiz holds up the impact driver sitting very visibly on top of one of the toolboxes. "Either you're blind, amigo , or you're looking for something very different." Oh, this is not gonna go well.

---

CHINESE AMBASSADOR'S HOUSE

YES, THEY HAVE INVITATIONS

"If I hear another word about trade agreements or tariff restrictions, I'm going to lose patience and drag him off for interrogation myself." Sam sighs, leaning toward Riley and keeping her voice just low enough to fade away under the echo of the ambassador's speech.

"At least the food's good." Riley has a plate piled high with what looks like one of everything from the buffet table.

"You're as bad as Jack. We're here to work." Sam glances around the packed room. There are good and bad things to being at an event like this. The good things are that it's easy to blend into a crowd, it's not weird to be asking a lot of questions about the people there, and if you wait a little while, people tend to drink a little more than they should of the complimentary alcohol. The bad things are that these places are crowded, hard to get out of, security can be a nightmare, and people have the tendency to freak out if someone unexpectedly pulls a gun.

Finally, the speech is over and the ambassador steps down to mingle with the crowd. It's hard to get through, of course everyone wants to talk to him, but people tend to move instinctively when Sam and Riley come through. She wonders if they can sense that they're dealing with someone it won't be wise to get in the way of.

"Mr. Ambassador," Cage says. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Anna Chase, and this is my associate Emily Grant." She holds out the business card of the fake tech company her cover is in charge of. "I sincerely hope you're able to make those lower trade restrictions a reality. My company depends on the components we manufacture in your country, and these unreasonable import laws are strangling our profits."

She can tell her flattery has gotten his attention. "It is an honor to find someone who shares my opinions on trade, Miss Chase." He glances at the room. "Very few people understand the...benefits of a less restricted exchange."

Sam doesn't need to be a skilled people reader to see that she's set the hook. "I must say, your country has certainly benefited me. My company has thrived since we were able to outsource the component manufacturing." She rests a hand with false casualness on his arm. "I've been hoping I would be able to manage a trip to see the factories in person, but I'm afraid that's never been viable. My schedule is so overwhelming. Thankfully Emily is good at making sure I have a little time for myself."

The ambassador laughs. He knows the game she's playing, or he thinks he does. I'm sure he believes that I'm here to trade some...favors...to get him to pay off the right people to look the other way about something my company is planning. Clearly he's not above buying in. I didn't expect he would be, knowing he's taking payments from arms dealers.

The man's arm slides around Sam's waist, hand too low to mean anything other than one thing, and she laughs, leaning a little closer and hating every second of this charade. I can't wait till I get to pull a knife on him.

"You ought to arrange a visit. It would be well worth your time."

"I was under the impression I was visiting your country now," Sam purrs. "After all, the embassy is technically Chinese soil, is it not?"

"It is a small piece of home." He smiles. "But this does not do it justice. This part of the house, this is for the Americans. But my office, that is where it truly feels like I am still in China." He slips an arm through hers. "If you truly cannot be persuaded to actually fly across the sea, perhaps you would like to experience just that tiny piece?"

"I would be honored." She smiles wider.

Once they're inside the room, the ambassador dismisses his security and Cage wanders through the room, commenting on the various art hangings and vases. "This really is a gorgeous office, Mr. Ambassador. And I'm so glad we could share a little...private time." She twirls a lock of hair around her finger and pushing the man down into his chair. She hears a soft thump from the hallway, Riley dealing with the security, most likely. She covers it with a laugh as she removes the man's tie, pulls his hands behind the chair, and ties them tightly. The next second, she's back in front of him, watching the look in his eyes shift from hazy lust to undisguised fear as he stares at the point of a knife inches from his throat.

Riley pushes the door open. "Excellent timing, Sam." Her hair has fallen out of its careful updo, and she's holding her shoes in one hand. One of them has a snapped off heel. Looks like she was taking out her frustrations about her mom on these guys.

"Who are you people?" The ambassador chokes out.

"If you want to keep your head attached to your neck, you should leave the asking questions part up to us," Riley says. Wow. She's definitely not messing around tonight. Riley sits down at the desk computer. "Get me his passwords, Sam."

"My pleasure." She turns back to the hyperventilating man. "Now I have some questions for you. And if you answer them all, your bosses back in Beijing never need to know you let two foreign operatives into your private study."

The knife and the threats do the trick, and in less than fifteen minutes Riley has access to the ambassador's offshore accounts, and has planted a worm virus that should be able to trace the source of the payments from the terrorists back to a location.

She closes the computer and stands up, smiling. "Enjoy your evening, Mr. Ambassador."

The hallway is empty, but Sam's well-trained enough to see some blood smears on the carpet leading to a closet. "Riley?"

"I busted one's nose. Always bleeds like crazy," Riley shrugs. "Didn't do any permanent damage."

Sam shakes her head and clicks on her comms before heading for the window at the end of the hall. Might as well avoid the party altogether. "We have the intel, Matty."

"Good, because I need you two to back Jack up right now." Matty's voice is clipped. "His mission is compromised and Mac is missing."

Riley glances at Cage, and there's a flicker of panic in her eyes. If something happens, she'll think it's her fault for not being there. Their phones ping simultaneously, probably the location of Jack's race.

The last two times Riley got split up from her team like this, Mac got hurt. Badly. Sam's sure that's all that's running through her friend's mind right now. "Riley, it's okay, it's going to be fine."

"I know. Let's go."

---

Jack revs the GTO as he pulls into place next to Juli's Camaro, and leans out the window to wave to the bystanders. "Who's Stoked for tonight?" Jack yells. He doesn't get the response Juli's earlier shout did, but that's because most of these people don't know him. It doesn't really matter, he's here to show off and make sure he sells his cover perfectly. Because if all goes well, by the end of the night, he'll have everything he needs to put Gomez and his guys away.

He can't deny there's something enjoyable about the thrill of the crowd. He can see how people are willing to risk getting caught for this. And he hasn't even started the race yet. I'm lucky. I get to drive like this for my job, and it's...well, maybe not always legal, but I usually don't get in trouble for it.

He's watched a couple of the other guys race already, and he's gotten the feel for how this group seems to race. It's pretty fair, he hasn't seen anyone pull any dirty tricks yet. Which means he's just going to have to be better than Juli. I can do this.

He waits for the signal, and then guns the GTO straight out of the start, steering carefully to avoid the worst of the fishtailing. If I can get in front of him and stay there, that might be the only chance I have of winning. But Juli's car is just a little faster on the takeoff, and Jack finds himself running off the rear quarterpanel, barely avoiding getting passed.

He pulls out a little farther, hoping to just push harder than the other car, but he's fairly well matched and the GTO doesn't have the special modifications the other car does. Jack's car is streamlined, but it's a little heavier, with the all metal body. The two vehicles barrel down the street, engines roaring. Jack knows these races are over before anyone expects it.

Mac, I sure hope this plan of yours works. He reaches for the dash and tugs on the wire running through there and into the engine. Mac swears whatever he did won't hurt the car, and Jack really hopes he's right. If he did it wrong I may not live long enough to find out.

The GTO's engine pitch rises to a screaming whine and the car leaps forward, gaining on the Camaro and putting the front bumper over the line just seconds before Juli's car. Jack spins into a stop at the end. Holy crap that was awesome. Mac is gonna be so glad that worked.

"Hell yeah, baby!" Jack leaps out of the car, pumping his fist in the air. Juli looks startled but impressed. Hopefully that's good enough to get him an in.

And then he stops cheering, realizing what's missing. Mac should be right here. There's no reason for him to be anywhere but at the race. He should be right here babbling physics terms and popping the hood to get a look at exactly how whatever he did performed.

Stop panicking. It's a big crowd, maybe he's somewhere in the middle. Jack pulls out his phone and shoots off a text. Won, and your doohickey worked great. Where are you? Mac doesn't respond.

He probably just didn't hear the text come in. Right? But the slowly spreading dread is sapping all the energy out of the air. Jack's still waving, still smiling, still pretending this is the best thing that's happened all night. But he can't see Mac anywhere.

Juli is looking at his own phone, and frowning. Jack sees him glance quickly his direction, then back to the phone. What... The pieces fall into place with a disturbing finality. Mac decided to speed things up and do some investigating on his own. Not that Jack blames him, there was no certainty he was going to get Juli's approval, and they need to take these guys down soon. And he knows La Ola's methods, maybe he figured out where they were stashing the guns. But none of that matters, because the way this looks, Mac got caught.

Jack glances up the street, just in time to see an old yellow Camaro, one he recognizes from the shop, pulling out of the garage alley. And then he sees the brown shoe waving itself out of a busted out taillight. Mac!

Jack guns the car, and thankfully the still-cheering crowd have the sense to get out of the way. He's already spun the GTO around in his victory circle, and it's seconds before he's on the road after the car. But Mac's little air intake trick will only work once, and try as he might Jack is struggling to gain on the disappearing car.

If Juli's guys get Mac away from him, God only knows what they're going to do to him. They could very well be planning to kill him and dump his body in the ocean somewhere. But he can't forget the conversation from earlier, and he's seen the stares when Mac's leaning over an engine, heard the mumbled innuendos and dirty jokes. They could keep him for themselves, or sell him. None of these options ends well for Mac, and Jack is sure the kid is painfully aware of that too.

He presses Matty's number. "Matty, the whole thing went to hell, they've got Mac. Round them all up now." If these guys do manage to ghost on him, maybe one of the other racers will know where they went.

The car is heading out of town, up into the hills. Jack can tell they're angling for the ocean, he can smell the salt breeze. Are they planning on dumping a body, or are they gonna take him to a boat?

The road is a series of switchback curves heading down toward the water here. The other car is slowing down, understandably. Jack doesn't hesitate. I've done this before. In a military convoy truck. Without brakes. He whips the GTO around the first curve, then the next. Now he's barely half a curve away from the other car.

I could run them off the road by clipping the rear end, but that runs the risk of hurting Mac. He can still see that shoe in the broken taillight. He'll have to get in front and force them off.

He takes the next corner on two wheels. There's a horribly weightless moment where he thinks the car might actually flip, but now the heavy metal body is working in his favor, because it slams the car back onto the road right side up. Jack guns the engine and moves just a bit ahead of the other vehicle, creeping into its lane, forcing the driver to slow before he gets into a deadly crash. The car skids to a stop just a few feet away from the next switchback, and Jack jumps out, pulling his gun on the two men inside. Ruiz is driving, and Jack fights back a horrible surge of nausea.

"Get out of the car." Jack keeps his gun on both men until they're standing in front of him, then knocks them both out fast. He doesn't have the time to tie them up, and he's not taking that gun off them for a second. He snatches the keys out of the ignition and rushes to the trunk, fumbling to get it open. "Mac, I'm gonna get you outta there, just give me a second, okay? I'm coming."

The trunk pops open, and Jack stares down at Mac, curled up shaking in the corner. Mac looks up at him, and Jack can tell there are tear streaks on his face, silvery in the moonlight. "Hey, it's okay, it's gonna be okay." He gently pulls the tape off the kid's mouth and cuts the zipties holding his hands and legs. "Hey, Mac, are you hurt?" He doesn't dare touch Mac if something terrible happened.

Mac just shakes his head, and then reaches for Jack, shivering, eyes desperate. Jack reaches in and pulls him out, now that he knows Mac's okay with being touched. I'm always afraid I'll scare him more, when all I want to do is hold on tight and protect him.

"Mac, it's okay. I got you. It's okay." Mac is shaking, fingers clutched tightly in Jack's shirt. Last time someone knocked him out and shoved him in a car trunk... Last time was Mexico. Jack is sincerely grateful this didn't end in a similar way.

Jack hugs him tightly, feeling Mac's tears soaking his shirt, and his own running down his cheeks. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm right here. Oh kiddo, I got you, I got you."

---

INSIDE A CAR TRUNK

THIS NEVER GOES WELL

Mac shivers. The smell of trunk carpet and exhaust fumes is making him dizzy and shaky. As is the thought of what's waiting for him at the end of this. Ruiz's smile and the hands roaming him while the man ziptied him and tossed him in the trunk are truly horrifying. He's going to do whatever he wants, whether they want to kill me or not. He can't tell if he just managed to blow the whole op, if they know what he was here for, or if they just think he's a troublemaker. Maybe all they wanted was an excuse to drag me off somewhere and… He stops himself there. Thinking about that won't help him get out of this.

His phone is gone, smashed up in some dark corner of that shop. Jack would think that was funny. Mac swallows down the sudden urge to sob. No, don't think like that, he's gonna come find you and then you can laugh about the phone around the fire later.

The car swerves around a tight corner and Mac slams into the side of the trunk. His ankle, still sticking out of the hole where he kicked out the taillight, is suddenly in a world of pain, and he'd scream if there wasn't a strip of duct tape slapped over his mouth. His head hurts, his shoulders hurt, his whole body hurts.

The smell of dust and sand is stronger, and Mac flinches. In the back of a car...crossing the border...heading down to Mexico, all alone. Jack doesn't know where he is, no one knows, no one will care because all he is is another escaped prisoner who vanished...

He blinks; he's wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, not an orange jumpsuit. Focus, get a grip. Or these flashbacks are going to get you killed. He was hoping things were going to get better, after the appeal and the worst of the charges getting dropped. I thought knowing I didn't have to be scared of going back would make those things just a bad memory. But he's just as terrified as ever.

He focuses on what's different this time. He can smell the ocean, not endless sandiness. Are they just planning to kill me and dump the body? He feels sick that that's almost a relief. No, don't think like that, you have to focus on finding a way out. He hopes someone saw the kicked out taillight. They should call the police if they did... Not that he particularly wants to deal with the police either, but anything is better than simply disappearing, probably being used and then killed. They wouldn't lock me up, would they? Not when I'm the one who got kidnapped...

And then he hears the sound of a very familiar engine. That's the GTO. Jack came after me. He knows he's crying now, but he doesn't really care, because it's relief, not fear. Even as the car swings around more corners, slamming him into the side of the trunk, aggravating existing bruises and making new ones, he doesn't feel that raw panic anymore.

And then the trunk opens and Jack is there, and Mac's not really sure of how any of it happens, but eventually he's sitting in the back seat of the GTO and Jack is right there beside him with his arm around Mac's shoulders. "It's okay. I'm right here." Mac is dimly aware that the two men from the car are laying on the ground, out cold. Should it bother me that Jack resorted to that? Because it doesn't, really. He shivers, glancing at the other car and quickly looking away.

"I couldn't get out," he whispers. He hates admitting this to anyone, but Jack won't use it against him. Jack never does.

"You did real good, though. You helped me find you, you kicked out that taillight. But you know, if you're planning on using your own foot as a distress signal, you might be better off to wear some of those neon sneakers Penny always had."

"I don't think that would have fit in well in the shop," Mac chuckles. Jack can always make him smile, no matter how bad it gets.

"Yeah, probably not." Jack shakes his head.

"But…" Mac reaches in his pocket, there's still one paperclip there. He pulls it out and starts bending it into the shape of a key. "When I was in that trunk, all I could think about was El Noche. About being taken down to Mexico, and what happened…" He shivers. "I thought I wouldn't think about that anymore after a while."

"No one expects you to be over that in less than a year, Mac. Most field agents don't come back at all from something like that."

"But Jack, what if it never gets any better? How am I supposed to do my job if every time I'm in a small space, I get flashbacks?"

Jack pulls back a little and turns so he's facing Mac, and there's something deeply serious in his voice and eyes. "Listen, kiddo, we all have things we can't handle. Riley's scared to death of needles and being unconscious, after that stunt she pulled in Malaysia to save Ralph. She refused an anesthetic when we took her to the hospital after she got shot, remember?" Mac nods.

"But that isn't something that happens very often…"

"And if I have my way, you getting shoved in a trunk is not going to happen again ever. " Jack shakes his head. "Everyone's scared of something. Even me."

"Even you?" Mac mock-laughs. "I didn't think I'd ever hear Jack Dalton say he was scared of something." He expects it to be something like snakes, especially after that mission in Uruguay. But Jack doesn't even smile, and there's the same aching seriousness in his voice.

"I'm scared of losing one of you kids. Mac, when I saw your shoe sticking out of that taillight, I freaking lost it." He shakes his head. "I blew the whole mission to go after you. It's a good thing there was a Phoenix team there prepared to step in. Because it didn't matter to me right then if we arrested those guys or not. All that mattered to me was that you were gonna be safe." There's a shaken quaver in Jack's voice. Mac leans closer against him, he's not sure who is more reassured by the closer contact. No matter how many times he reminds me how important I am in his world, it's so hard to remember.

He stays there, leaning against Jack, until he hears a car coming. Riley and Cage step out, and get to work cuffing the still unconscious guys on the ground. Both of them come over to see him and Jack, and he can see the worry in their eyes.

He doesn't tell them he's okay, it's too soon for that. But he does tell them he will be. And that is the truth.

---

MAC'S HOUSE

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER COMPLETED MISSION

Jack grins as he clinks his bottle against Riley's. "Well, congratulations on your first successful op as a team leader. You're making me feel old, kiddo."

"At least you're finally acknowledging it, old man." Riley ducks the hand aimed to playfully slap the back of her head. "You started it, Jack."

"You really did." Bozer sits down and starts passing around plates of fresh-off-the-grill wings. Jack glances skeptically at the ones smothered in some kind of orange sauce.

"That's not your Uncle What's-His-Name's hot sauce, is it?"

"No, it's not, because you drank it all and I haven't been to see him since," Boze says. "This is just good old fashioned sriracha." Jack pulls his hand back.

"Thanks, I'll pass." He likes spicy food. Sriracha, he insists, is not 'spicy'. It's a concentrated attack on the taste buds.

Riley grabs three of the wings, then hands the plate on to Sam, holding it over a drooling Mickey's head.

"Ah, give him one, then maybe he'll stop begging," Jack chuckles. Mac puts an arm around the dog's back protectively.

"Don't listen to Jack," he mutters, and Mickey turns around to lick his face; Mac has some of the barbecue sauce dripped on his chin and smudged on one cheek. "H-hey, stop, you can clean my hands okay?" He holds them up defensively, and Mickey's immediately attacking them with enthusiastic licking.

Matty and Patty, sitting next to each other, exchange a glance that Jack is sure is nothing short of We actually trust these people to save the world on a consistent basis.

"We have a solid lead on the location of the arms dealer who's been paying the Chinese ambassador now," Sam says. "A team is on location to take him down in a couple of hours."

"And Gomez and his whole crew are facing a whole lot of prison time," Jack adds. "Thanks to Mac figuring out where the guns were being hidden in the cars, we were able to pin the weapons smuggling on them in addition to the illegal racing. And a few of them are going down for kidnapping as well." He feels Mac shiver slightly.

Patty glances at Jack. "When we confiscated Gomez's cell phone, we found a series of messages that led us to the location of the warehouse they'd stashed the stolen G-36 shipment in. All the guns have been seized, accounted for, and quietly returned to the CIA."

"So despite the fact that the mission was compromised, in the end it was a full success," Matty continues. "We have Gomez and his people in custody, and we have the guns back where they belong."

"And we have Mac back where he belongs," Jack reminds them, putting his arm around the kid's shoulders. He's got yet another official reprimand on his permanent record, he thinks he might be racking up one a mission now. But it's worth it to make sure Mac stays safe.

He knows he broke every rule in the book. The mission is always supposed to come first. But that's never been the way it was with Riley, and that's not how it is with Mac, either. There is never going to be anything in the world more important than the safety of his kids. He glances around the circle on the deck. I wouldn't trade this family for anything. Ever.

---

RILEY'S APARTMENT

NO INDICATION THAT IT BELONGS TO AN INTERNATIONAL SPY

Riley shoves her fake ID papers into the space Sam was using, behind the loose baseboard. Mom's probably going to go through all my cupboards and complain about my food choices. Even the bathroom cleaning supply caddy probably isn't safe. Knowing her, she's going to decide that even though the apartment is as pristine as I can get it, she has to do it herself. Diane is the kind of person who will insist on being a helpful guest. Riley sighs, glancing around the room and mentally assessing whether it's parent-proofed.

She's spent the last twenty-four hours on a whirlwind cleaning spree. All guns in the secret cabinet, all high-tech gadgets hidden away. I feel like I'm in Mr. and Mrs. Smith but my mom isn't another secret agent. At least that I know of.

She's never had an excuse not to clean her place before someone visits. Most people worry about their guests finding dust on the mantel, or mold somewhere in the shower. She has to worry about them opening the bathroom cabinet and finding the antitoxin kits, or pulling out a box of cereal and getting her backup Glock instead of Cocoa Pebbles.

She's about to call it good when she sees the lockpicking kit prominently displayed on her bookshelf. She grabs it, stuffs it behind three volumes of the complete works of Charles Dickens (Mom always claims everything but A Christmas Carol is too depressing for her taste) along with several spare comm sets and a few half-completed bugs. Most of my stuff is at the Phoenix or at Jack's place, but you never know when you're going to really need something right away.

Her phone buzzes.

I forgot what you told me the entry code was.

Riley shakes her head before typing her reply. I'll be right down.

Riley sighs and gives the room one more onceover. Last few moments of freedom. Before Diane walks back into her life and makes her feel like she's fifteen again. At least this time I don't have to deal with one of the boyfriends.

She hurries down the stairs and pulls open the front door.

"Honey?" Diane drops her bags on the doorstep and reaches for Riley.

"Hi Mom."