"Yes. They were notified when I realized someone was hacking the elevators."
"This needs to stop happening, Conor."
His younger brother released a growl. "I fucking know, Aidan."
"Maybe we need to tell Da you have to have a break."
"A break?" Conor’s laugh was the angriest sound I’d ever heard, and I’d been around a detoxing hair band that used coke like it was oxygen. "How’s that going to go down, Aidan? We’re neck-deep with the Sparrows.
"Look, I recognized someone had infiltrated the building’s security. I was on it. I was just concerned. You were about to hit the eighteenth floor. I needed to not let that happen.
"Code was written to be broken. The expectation that mine is unbreachable is beyond unrealistic. I’m not a magician, and my work isn’t sanctified. If it was, maybe then it’d never be breached. Unfortunately for us, I’m just a guy."
"You’re not just anything to Da."
Conor growled. "Did you hear what I said?"
"I did, and I get it," Aidan soothed, using a tone I’d heard him use with me which was interesting. "I’ll tell Da."
"This isn’t about the fine," Conor growled. "This is about expectations, and his being impossible."
"Like they aren’t for all of us," Aidan retorted.
Conor released a sharp breath. "You’re not wrong there. Look, you’re in between floors now. It’s going to be awkward to get you out of there," he warned.
"Oh, my God, we dropped sixty floors?" I squeaked, my hands clutching Aidan’s jacket as my brain finally allowed me to do math.
He reached down and patted my hand, his calm in this storm so clear that I recognized how he wasn’t flustered by any of this.
I thought I knew what to expect from the mobster world. I’d spent more than half my life reading up on it, for God’s sake. But this was so much more than I’d anticipated. Myopic, sure, but being in the spotlight was a hell of a lot different than researching light bulbs.
"You’ll be stuck for a while," Conor finished, almost as if I hadn’t spoken.
"We can’t get any lights on in here?" Aidan rasped.
"No," came the brusque reply.
A soft whimper broke free from my lips, and it shamed me. The noise fucking shamed me as much as if I’d just pissed myself. They didn’t need me to be weak, they needed me to be brave. Yet here I was, whimpering.
Neither of them wanted this.
Neither of them would even be involved in this if it weren’t for me.
Aidan could have been killed and Conor was going to have to replace an expensive machine because of me.
I reached up and pressed a closed fist to my lips, but like he knew, like he felt what I was doing, Aidan shifted around, moving so that I knew he was facing me because I felt the flaps of his sport coat drift apart.
"Conor, get them to work as fast as you can, okay?"
"Of course. I’ll pay them extra to get a move on."
"Keep me in the loop?"
"Will do. For the moment, I’m monitoring all elevator traffic. Only faces that pass the security metric and are identified as residents of The Sharpeoras recent visitors to The 68 will be allowed to use them. Even then, the elevators will only travel down, not up. Speak later."
I rocked my head back against the mirrored wall the second Conor’s voice disappeared, and the only word that came into my mind was, "Sorry." I licked my lips. "I’m so sorry, Aidan."
He moved with a precision that I wasn’t sure why I was surprised by. Aidan seemed like a magician to me, capable of pulling moves out of thin air like they were rabbits out of a top hat. His hand came up to rub his thumb along my cheek as he asked, "What are you sorry for?"