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anything other than TV and computer screens. “Fine. Let’s go get dinner.”
    â€œSure thing.” He accelerated and merged left, exchanging a look with Garrett that was far too smug.
    â€œSo, did tonight’s errand have anything to do with
Everly
?” I threw out the word like a challenge, and they both froze.
    â€œWhat do you know about the Everlys?” asked Garrett.
    The answer, not that I would ever admit it, was
nothing
. I didn’t even know to add a “the” in front. It was just a word I’d overheard a few times lately. Always in hushed tones and always with serious expressions.
    But where Garrett looked horrified, Carter grinned like I’d just invented electricity.
    â€œThe Everlys?” I prompted. “Answers?”
    Carter shrugged. “They’re an upstart. A wannabe Family.”
    â€œAnd?” I’d eavesdropped enough to know new Families never succeeded. They didn’t have the influence to buy off/blackmail law enforcement and government officials. They didn’t have the pharmaceutical companies in their pockets, so they lacked a steady supply of antirejection meds, steroids, antibiotics, etc. They had a shortage of skilled doctors and were too reckless with recruiting donors. My grandfather had had to deal with all these obstacles when he’d started the Family, way back before Father was born, but he’d had some advantages: money; a family with influence and connections; a half-dozen established spas that could be transformed into clinics without raising suspicion; a wife who was a transplant surgeon and fed up with the days she
wasn’t
performing surgeries because there weren’t organs available. But, most important, he was
first
. Not that he hadn’t encountered raids and setbacks, but he’d been able to get up and running, establish safeguards and cover stories, before the Feds even knew the Business existed. Or maybe that wasn’t most important. Maybe the most important thing was a character trait he shared with Father—they were fastidious. Grandfather had had incredible attention to detail, and he demanded it from everyone around him.
    Father said all the upstarts were sloppy—too focused on making a quick profit and ignoring both the minutiae and bigger picture. He said
this
was why they inevitably got themselves arrested—which actually benefited the real Families because it kept the FBI busy and away from us.
    â€œThe Everlys use cadaver tissue, Pen,” said Carter, “and most of it comes from crematorium or morgue connections.”
    â€œLike you were talking about earlier,” I said, “in the library.”
    â€œNo! Not at—they’re nothing like that. We’re, we’re nothing like—we would never be like them.”
    Carter was almost incoherent with horror, so I turned to Garrett. “Explain.”
    â€œThere are some … questions about where they get their organs and their clinic conditions. Like, they told this one guy he was getting a teenager’s heart and it was actually a sixty-five-year-old’s. The guy needs another transplant already and he’s DQ’d from the government list. And there have been rumors of patients getting hepatitis from organs. Hep C, I think.”
    â€œThey’re using diseased and misrepresented organs,” said Carter. “I’d never do something like that!”
    â€œWell, of course not,” I agreed. “Are they a threat?”
    He shook his head. “They shouldn’t be. They should all be arrested or out of the Business soon enough.”
    â€œSo why were you talking about crematoriums earlier? Our Family only does live-donor transplants. Or donors who signed over their bodies while still alive.” I swallowed a “right?” but the statement still sounded like a question.
    â€œPen, I’m talking innovations. If Father wants to compete, he’s got to