Liam sprinted down the street, dodging speeding cars like a man with a death wish. Beside him was his brother, Oliver, who—of course—had somehow managed to drag him into another mess. Armed thugs chasing them? Check. Liam’s FBI badge feeling utterly useless? Double check. If he had a dollar for every time this happened, he could retire.

They darted into an alley, shots flying past them, then burst out onto Main Street into a crowded public square. Panting, Liam slowed to a jog, trying to get his bearings.

Oliver, clearly proud of himself, grinned between breaths. "I think we lost 'em. Gotta admit, I’ve got a knack for saving your ass."

Liam glanced up, catching his breath. He scoped out the square, eyes darting for an escape route—then ducked as a bullet whizzed by. He looked back at Oliver, raising an eyebrow. "You were saying?"

Oliver’s grin faltered, and before Liam could get another word out, his brother was already halfway down the street, sprinting like his life depended on it. "Yeah, okay, I really hate it when you’re right!" he called over his shoulder.

Liam couldn’t help but laugh. This was definitely his life now. But, hey, at least he had Oliver around to keep things interesting.