Page 14 of His Sinful Need

“Nice to meet you all,” Max says, showing not the slightest hint of discomfort under their scrutinizing gazes, some curious, some hostile.

“Alright, now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, let’s get back to work,” I say.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Van asks sharply. “What the hell’s going on, Bricker? You drag some Castellani in here—”

“Anna-Vittoria invited him over from the Castellanis to help us out,” I say. “That’s what’s going on. So we’re all gonna be nice and friendly and definitely not be assholes to the new guy. Right?”

Van doesn’t reply. The crew returns to their tasks, but I can tell they’re still keeping an eye on Max. “How about you work with Rook and Giddy,” I suggest to Pedretti, gesturing to them. “They’re trying to figure out how to block a wireless alarm system.”

Max takes a seat near them. I watch him, trying to gauge if my crew’s reaction has affected him in any way. He seems as stoic and unruffled as ever.

Let’s see how long that lasts.

I head to the kitchen and get myself a coffee. I don’t bother to offer Max one, but he doesn’t seem to notice, either. I watch him as he assesses the room. He’s got an air of confidence about him, a man who knows his worth and isn’t afraid to show it.

Do I want him, or do I want tobehim?

“You’re Rook, right?” I hear Max ask, as he leans in to look at the system they’re working on.

“That’s what they call me,” Rook says glumly. “But my name’s Rocco.”

“Rookie,” Giddy snickers, and Max raises an eyebrow as Rook scowls.

Giddy was the one who dubbed him Rookie. Pot calling the kettle Rookie, as far as I was concerned, since Giddy arrived only a month before Rook. But somehow it stuck, so I shortened it to Rook, which he seems to like better.

“So that makes you Giddy?” Max asks.

“Guido, Guido Tauriello,” Giddy sighs with a grimace. “Everyone calls me Giddy.”

Max raises his eyebrows. “Okay, well—Giddy. You see that bit you’ve got your thumb on?” He points to the instructions the two kids are hunched over. “That’s the bit you want to be looking at.”

“Itoldyou,” Rook hisses.

“There’s no shame in being new to something,” Max says, as Giddy scowls. “No shame in being a rookie,” he adds with a glance at Rook, who gives a small smile. “Mind if I take a closer look? I’ve seen one like this before.”

With a shrug, Giddy hands Max the instructions, eyeing him warily.

I watch as Max reads over the sheet, asking questions and offering suggestions. He knows his stuff, and I see Rook and Giddy slowly warming up to him.

Back at the house, while I was waiting downstairs for Max to unpack, I read over the brief Barone gave me. It lived up to its name of “brief.” But it had some interesting background information. Apparently this Castellani was once part of a bank-robbing syndicate. It calmed me down a little, reading that. Maybe the Maestra really does mean him to help instead of hinder.

Even so, I keep a close eye on the situation. Max might be good at what he does, but that doesn’t mean he hasourbest interests at heart.

I’m about to return my focus to my own work when Tank and Pony’s voices rise above the din of the room. They’re arguing again, this time about the last heist, which didn’t go as planned.

“Fuck off, Pony!” Tank snaps at last, his face red with anger. “You can’t just fuck around with the plan! That’s how we end up in situations like the one we ended up in!”

We’ve been picking off the occasional armored cash transport cars along with tracking their schedules, holding them up here and there as practice runs for the big job. Last time we did it, we all nearly got our heads blown off, thanks in part to Pony, who went off-script and left his vehicle to—as he put it—”help”.

“Maybe if you weren’t so damn cautious all the time, we wouldn’t have missed our window!” Pony retorts, slamming his fist on the table.

“Hey!” I bark, drawing their attention. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.” I can tell that Max is listening hard, even though he hasn’t even looked over. “New guy,” I call over. “Yeah, you, Pedretti. What do you think, huh?”

“Think about what?”

“Tank knows that planning is crucial. But the Pony here, he prefers more flexibility in our approach. So who’s right?”

Max looks at Tank, Pony, back to me. “Neither. And both. Sometimes you follow the plan. Sometimes you go off script. Depends on the context. And since I wasn’t there, I guess I can’t help with that.”

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