Page 15 of His Sinful Need

Goddamnhim. He knows exactly what to say to defuse the situation and make Tank and Pony feel a little foolish for arguing in the first place.Andhe’s right. Planning is important, but so is being able to adapt.

It’s exactly what I’ve said myself to these two chuckleheads every time they argue about it.

Tank grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest. Pony just sneers, gets back to his work.

I glance over at Van, who watched Max intently through the whole exchange. I catch his eye and jerk my head slightly, signaling for him to join me in the corner of the living room, away from prying ears.

“What do you think?” I ask Van quietly when he wanders over, glancing toward Max as he leans over the table covered with wires and components, deep in conversation with Rook and Giddy.

“He’s a plant from the old—from A-V,” Van replies, his eyes narrowed. “Guy is way too smooth. And what’s with all this peacemaking crap? The Castellanis are looking for a war with the Bernardis; we all know that. If he’s here, he’s looking for recruits. That scar-faced bastard sent him to poach our best.”

I rub a hand over my stubbled chin. “Can’t deny he knows his shit, though.” Van grunts, clearly unhappy, but says nothing more. “Don’t worry, he won’t be here long.”

I hope.

“Hey, Bricker,” Van adds, catching me back as I turn away. He drops his voice to a murmur. “You decide about your dad?”

I give a shrug and Van, thankfully, lets it go. Van’s the only one who knows about it, but my dad had a health scare recently. I only found out after the fact, and I was mad about that—for a few hours, anyway.

I haven’t seen my father for a long time, but the whole incident made me think about visiting him again. I confided in Van one night after too many beers, and he told me I should go. Said he’d give anything to talk to his parents again. They were killed when he was a teenager in a clumsy, vicious hit ordered by Aldo Bernardi, the old Bernardi Don. No one celebrated as hard as Van when Aldo got taken out recently. I went with him to his parents’ gravesite and watched him tell them, tearfully, that the guy was finally dead. The only downside as far as Van was concerned was that he hadn’t been holding the gun himself.

But things were different for Van and his parents. A lot different from my situation.

As I turn back toward the rest of the crew, I see Rook and Giddy eagerly firing off questions at Max, their curiosity about the Castellani Family barely contained.

“So this Julian Castellani,” Rook snickers, “he must suck a mean dick if he snatched the Bernardi Lion. You ever have a go, Pedretti?” His laughter is crude, and Giddy chuckles along.

Max puts down the sheet of instructions. “Maybe I better be clear about something up front. I don’t appreciate hearing that kind of bullshit. And if I were you, I wouldn’t risk talking like that about Julian CastellaniorLeo Bernardi. They’re not as forgiving as I am.”

The laughter dies at once, and Rook’s face turns pale. Beside him, Giddy looks sheepish, glancing at me like he hopes I didn’t overhear.

I’m surprised to hear Max shoot them down so instantaneously, especially as the new kid on the block. I even appreciate it. But a rat will still bite you, even if it’s got a smile on its face.

“Thanks for clearing that up, Max,” I say, wandering over. “These two jackasses know better than that most of the time. Right?”

“Right,” they chorus, but they can’t look me in the eye. They forget, sometimes, thatI’mgay. I’ve stamped down on their homophobic horseshit the few times I’ve heard it, and Jazz kicked both their asses over something they said about women once, but they’re young and dumb and they run their mouths sometimes.

A tense silence stretches across the room, broken only by the faint hum of the coffee machine in the kitchen and the steady tick of the wall clock. The rest of the crew very deliberately ignores the situation.

“Sorry, Max,” Rook mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “That was out of line.” Giddy nods in agreement, and mumbles aSorry.

“Apology accepted,” Max says evenly. “Let’s forget it and focus on what we’re here for.”

“Agreed,” I chime in, nodding in approval as I watch the crew get back to work. But my eyes linger on the Castellani. Wondering.

If onlyIcould focus on what we’re here for.

CHAPTER8

BRICKER

I spendsome time talking with Jazz and Tank, but my mind keeps working over the problem of Max Pedretti. Maybe he might prove himself to be an asset? Still, the world we inhabit is not one that rewards misplaced trust.

My eyes keep finding Max of their own volition, and this time when I look over, he stares right back at me. There’s something in his face—appreciation, perhaps, or maybe just a shared understanding, or—

Ah, shit.

He’s gay.

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