April 10, 2014
Procession of the Sirdar—Mikhail Mikhaylovich Ippolitov (3:51)
Burn Notice
Michael
"No worries," her voice told him just before she cut the connection.
Michael stared down at the phone in his hand and frowned in concern. He knew he shouldn't be worried. Fi could take care of herself and those around her without a problem. But he couldn't stop the small shiver of dread along his spine. This one might be over her head.
He fought the urge to tell Sam to drive a bit faster but something in his body language must have communicated his worry to the older man. Sam laid on the lead and they shot down the street. "She'll be fine, Mikey," Sam said comfortingly. "I mean, come on, it's Fiona."
"I know," Michael told him in a low tone and shifted his gaze to the buildings whipping past outside the window. Still he didn't ask Sam to slow down and Sam's foot stayed heavy on the gas.
Michael shook his head and couldn't hold back a chuckle as Sam pulled to a stop outside Cara's house. The asphalt was littered with scorch marks and broken glass.
Sam let out his own sound of amusement. "Well, Mikey, at least Fi should be in a good mood," he pointed out. "She got to blow something up."
Michael looked up at him with a grin that was half relief and half amusement. "She did," he agreed.
"Such a shame you boys missed the party," Fiona called to them from just inside the doorway of Cara's house. "We invited some friends and it was a…blast."