Page 22 of His Sinful Need

I hope he means vegetables rather than mold. But the bacon is hard to resist, and I need something to offset the three beers from last night. I don’t usually drink much. In my line of work, I need to keep my wits sharp.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I ask after my first few mouthfuls.

“All in good time, Max, all in good time,” he replies enigmatically, chowing through his own plate of food.

On the car ride to the operations house, Bricker talks almost non-stop. I get a full recap of the baseball game, commentary on the state of the roads out here in the Valley, how much he spent on his groceries last week. None of it important, or even interesting, but I can tell his mind is ticking over behind his mouth. He’s the kind of man who talks to think, even though whatever he says has nothing to do with the gears moving in his brain.

“Alright, everyone,” Bricker announces as we enter the front door. “Daddy’s home. Come and tell me all your troubles.”

Most of them are there: Jazz and Tank drinking coffee at the table while Rook makes a fresh pot in the kitchen, Giddy already fiddling with the gadget from yesterday, Honeybee and Nico giggling and flirting with each other in the corner. Inevitable, but not helpful, in my experience. I prefer to keep professional relationships professional.

Van Delligatti appears in the kitchen doorway with a steaming mug, looking straight at me as he sips it. He gives an up-nod to Bricker.

Something’s going on. The crew wasn’t so amped-up yesterday.

“Morning, Max,” Rook greets me, rushing over to hand me a steaming cup of coffee. I nod in appreciation and take a sip. The bitter liquid does little to chase away the worry, but at least it’ll give me a jolt.

“Where’s Pony?” Bricker asks, wandering over to the table to take a seat.

“Took the van to the carwash,” Tank says, only the way he says it tells me it means something else. Probably changing plates on the van. But that means…

“Good to hear.” Bricker drops his voice, asking Jazz something in an undertone. She shakes her head.

But another low murmur of conversation catches my attention, and I strain to listen without drawing suspicion. Van is huddling up with Nico, discussing something that seems urgent.

I catch the wordarmored.

Shit.

“You’re doing the armored car jobtoday?” I ask sharply, my voice cutting through the conversation in the room.

“Aw,” Bricker says, pouting. “You ruined the surprise, Max. Yeah. Their schedules changed—Van gave me a call last night to let me know—so today’s the day.”

“A word in private?” I ask stiffly, setting down my cup on the old table. Bricker rolls his eyes theatrically, but he follows me to the kitchen just as Tony the Pony comes in the front door.

“Slow your roll, Pedretti,” Bricker says before I can even open my mouth. “I was going to tell you.”

“When?”

“Well…now?”

“That’s not how I operate, Soldano, and I’m not interested in running blind.”

There’s an unpleasant flash in his eyes that tells me again how much he doesn’t trust me. “Pedretti, you need to remember you’re a guest here. You operate how I say you operate. It’s another trial job, that’s all. Easy pickings. I’ll go through the plan with you myself, right now, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Look, it really isn’t—” Bricker starts, but he’s interrupted by Van Delligatti approaching us, glaring at me.

“Why’s the Castellani calling the shots?” Delligatti demands, going on before Bricker has a chance to respond, “You do what you’re fucking told, Pedretti, like the rest of us. You don’t get to pick the jobs. That’smyrole.”

“Easy, Van.” Bricker places a calming hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Max here was just offering to help.”

“Help?” Van scoffs. “What, is your boyfriend suddenly an expert on armored car heists?”

Bricker’s eyebrows flutter up as he takes that in, the smile on his face turning incredulous. “I’m gonna tell you to walk away now, Delligatti,” he says, dangerously light, “and take that fucking attitude with you.”

Van scowls at me instead of Bricker, but stalks away without another word. I remember why I’m here, and turn to Bricker to offer an olive branch. “I actuallyaman expert. And I’m supposed to help, right? Soletme help. Let me do my job, Capo. That’s all I ask.”

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