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little recon work. See if they can catch a whiff of who these guys are, where they’re from, and what they want with Emma.” He was already sliding his phone from his pants pocket when I interrupted.
    “No, I don’t want some guys on this,” I said, hitching my hands on my hips. “I need my brothers on this. I trust you all implicitly‌—‌everyone else not so much. I need you guys on this. The three of you are the only ones I can be certain of who possess the hacks and damn Hayward determination to get it done.”
    I knew I was asking a big favor, asking not one, but three of my brothers to put their lives, stations, and plans on hold to get to the bottom of this, but since I was locationally impaired and had a bit of a trust issue when it came to anyone other than a tight circle, I needed them. And I would have done it for them without a single question or thought. I had done the same for them before.
    “You got it,” Joseph said, not missing a beat. “We’ll get it done.”
    Everything inside me exhaled. “I know you will, brother,” I said, feeling everything else loosening with my shoulders. “And I know you’re not babysitters, but since Emma’s shit-for-brains brothers are incompetent, as evidenced tonight, I need you guys to work on rotating shifts. Again, I’m not comfortable trusting the safety of my girl to anyone else but my brothers.” It seemed I couldn’t trust her safety to her own brothers either. “Will you do it?”
    “Done,” Joseph said, rising. “Since we don’t have this great nightly prison escape gift of teleportation and actually have to use a means of transportation that requires hours and not seconds”‌—‌the little punk was smirking at me‌—‌”we’ll each take seventy-two hour shifts. Since I’m the lucky one you happened upon tonight, I’ll take the first shift.”
    He shouldered past me, smiling, as he pulled a backpack from the coat closet.
    We all had the same thing, in varying colors and sizes of luggage, in our own houses. We called them our 911 packs, and they got more use than the luggage we used for R&R. Our existences, and career fields, meant emergencies were the norm, and we packed accordingly.
    “I’ll hoof it over to William’s and see if he can jet me down to Stanford, and then I promise, I won’t take my eyes off of Emma once I’m there,” he said, sliding both arms through his backpack.
    “Lucky bastard,” I muttered, jealous he was watching over her because I couldn’t.
    “Green isn’t really your color, Patrick.” He shot me an obnoxious grin as he started up the stairs. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go explain to my woman why I have to spend the next three days with yours.”
    “Joseph,” I called out as he climbed the last step. He tilted his head back. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
    “No, you don’t,” he said, looking at me. “You’ve watched over Cora, Abby, and Bryn more times than any of us can count. It’s nice to be able to return the favor.”
    Flicking me a wink, he loped down the hall towards his sleeping wife while I teleported west a few states to a sleeping cell mate named Mr. Rogers.

CHAPTER FOUR
    If anxiety was a lethal disease, it would have killed me by now.
    It took every rope of restraint and wrap of willpower to keep me from teleporting to Emma, to make sure she was safe, Joseph had made it there, and a new bunch of Inheritors weren’t tailing her. Disappearing in the cover of darkness and sleeping inmates was one thing; vanishing into thin air sliding my tray along the chow line at breakfast was something entirely different.
    So my better judgment had a hell of a day beating my anxiety into submission. It was winning the war by a margin so narrow it was next to nonexistent. Of course, modern day essentials like email, texting, or even a damn phone call were a rare luxury when you stood on the other side of the judicial line in an orange jumpsuit, so there was no way for me to know with