"Good to have you back, Yang."

The Asian grimaced at Hale, shook his head. "Yeah, I'll bet. Here, if you missed me so much, why don't you help with my bags?"

Hale pursed his lips, arms folding over his chest. "Nah."

"Asshole."

"Asian prick."

"Shut up, for chrissakes." Christmas refrained from hitting both men upside the head. "Let's get the fuck out of this airport. I'm starving."

Yang shoved one of his bags into the trunk of the rented car, brow furrowed. "What's up with him?"

"Long story," Hale muttered. He heaved the second bag into the trunk as well, taking his sweet time. "A shitload of stuff has happened since you've been gone."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"Well, Erin is gonna – "

"Wait. That woman is still around?"

"I wish." Hale laughed. "Nah, she's still around. Just not sleeping around, know what I mean?"

"You're sick."

"Hey, just 'cause I don't have a family like you doesn't mean I'm a sick perv or nothing."

Yang shoved the last bag into the trunk, shrugged. "Whatever you say, Hale." The Asian fiddled with the bags, realized that they were stacked in such a way that the trunk lid wouldn't close. "You didn't tell me what's bothering Christmas."

Hale passed a hand over his face, glanced warily at the back of Lee's bald head through the back windshield of the car. "Christmas doesn't like Erin much. Don't know why. I don't think Ross or Tool know why, either. Doesn't matter, though. Christmas flew off the handle the other night and nearly made Erin leave the team."

"She's a part of the team now?"

"I guess. It's not official, but I think we've all accepted it." Hale frowned. "Now stop interrupting me and let me finish telling you the fucking story!"

Yang rolled his eyes, shook his head. "Always impatient," he muttered beneath his breath, shifting one of his bags over.

"So, yeah, Erin gets all pissed off and leaves, and then Ross follows her and stays the night trying to convince her and everything. She comes back, and then bitch-slaps Christmas."

"Bitch-slap?"

"Well, no, she full on clocked him in the face. He's got a nasty ass bruise on his jaw now. Boy, was he pissed." Hale let out a low whistle. "Gunner and Toll Road think that Christmas might just up and leave the fucking team. He just hates Erin that much."

"I don't think he hates her," Yang replied, careful with his words. "I think he really likes her, and that's what's pissing him off."

"Whatever the fuck it is, it's messing the karma or some other voodoo shit. I got a bad feeling…"

"Karma is Indian."

"What?"

"Karma is from Hinduism, Sikhism, Jainism, and Buddhism," Yang mumbled, slammed the trunk lid shut. "Voodoo is African and Haitian."

"Who the hell gives a fuck?"

Yang resisted the urge to slam himself on the forehead. "Let's just go."

"Are you two done flirting back there?" Christmas cried, red creeping up his neck from frustration. "I want to fucking eat!"

The trio stopped at a McDonalds on the way back to the tattoo shop, each ordering enough to feed an army ten times over. Stepping into Tool's, they were greeted with open arms and ravenous stomachs. Bombarded by the other men, Christmas, Hale, and Yang barely made it out intact. Only Erin sat off to the side, waiting for the men to claim their share. Ross, still as stoic as always, greeted Yang with a clap on the back and led him over to the young woman, hamburgers and French fries in hand. Erin smiled at Yang.

"Good to see you back alive," she said, taking one of the hamburgers out of his hands. "How's the family?"

"My grandmother," Yang said, tearing open the wrapper to his burger, "is dead. She had a stroke and was hospitalized. She died five days later, two days after I got there."

"At least you got to see her before she passed." Erin reached out and gave Yang's shoulder a compassionate squeeze. "It's hard losing someone you love, I know. Things'll get better, though."

Yang nodded his head, the hint of a grateful smile touching his lips. "I hear a lot has happened since I left."

"We had a job offer come up," Ross began carefully, eyes darting over to Erin's hardening face, "but we refused."

"Why?"

"It was too dangerous."

Erin cleared her throat. "I'm still doing it."

Yang blinked in disbelief. "What? You're going to take on a job all by yourself?"

"I have to," Erin explained, suddenly losing her appetite. "It's important. Trust me."

"I don't know you," Yang pointed out.

"Then trust Ross. He knows I have to do this."

Ross shifted uneasily, forced himself to meet Yang's curious gaze. He shook his head, willing the Asian to let the subject drop for the time being. Yang took another bite of his burger, grimaced.

"America loves grease too much," he grumbled. "Now my digestion is going to be screwed for a week."

"Sorry we like to fuck with you," Hale quipped as he walked by, face glistening from hamburger grease.

"Very funny, Hale."

"Listen," Erin said, drawing Yang's attention, "I need your help. Ross has given me permission to use all your guys' resources. I have a few of my own, but I need to update my information file on the job I'm taking up."

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious." Erin's eyes were hard, flinty. "It's nothing major. I just want you to pull up all the information you have on Alexander Montoya."

"The millionaire?"

"Yes, the fucking millionaire!" Erin exhaled heavily, rolled her eyes. "Jesus, you guys act like you've never killed a rich man."

"Alexander Montoya…what does he have to do with the job?"

"He's one of the biggest drug lords working for Mexico in the U.S. He should be holing up in Arizona within three to four days. He should be there by Saturday at the latest. That's when we get the down payment for the job, anyway."

"How much?"

"Seven mil." Erin swallowed the last of her hamburger, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Anyway, I want information on his house before I check it out myself on Thursday. That's three days from now. I need to have a rundown of his security and surveillance systems before Friday night, at the latest. Can you get it done?"

"I can try. No guarantees." Yang ate the last of his burger. "Does Tool know about this?"

"Yes." Ross glanced over his shoulder. "The others don't know, and we're not telling them – or Christmas – until it's too late for them to say or do anything. We've got enough shit going on right now."