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Sniper?
Whoever’s shooting at us, it’s not SWAT. Definitely not cops of any kind; the initial shooting was way too reckless, even for LAPD, and on the road overhead the still-smoky car I hear traffic swerving and crashing into things as stray bullets fly off-target.
My mind runs through possibilities, each more dangerous than the last. But I have to do something to help Van—he’s pinned down. The shots have slowed, but every time Van tries to move from his position, that sniper takes a crack at him.
But I’m on the wrong damn side to provide any cover fire. I put my earpiece back in. “Pedretti.”
“Yeah.”
“Suggestions?”
There’s a brief silence, and then Max says, “I got it, Capo.”
I should not feel the amount of fucking relief I feel at his calm, competent voice.
But I do.
“Delligatti, you hear me?” Max continues.
“Yeah.”
“You see me and Rook over to your left? Other left,” he adds, as Van looks the wrong way. Rook gives him a little wave and a smile, and I wonder for a second what the hell is wrong with him.
He’s just freaked out. I am, too. So thank fuck for Max Pedretti.
“I can see where the sniper’s shooting from,” Max goes on. “Gray building right next to us here, third story. I’m gonna cover you while you haul ass over here.”
For one long moment, I think Van is going to tell Max to go fuck himself, but I guess his love of life supersedes his dislike of the Castellani. “Count it down,” Van says at last.
“Three...two...one,go.”
I contort myself around the corner to watch. I see the rifle barrel appear out the window just where Max said it was coming from, and Max lets off three well-aimed shots. He has no chance of getting the guy, but the rifle disappears from the window, uncertain where the shots are coming from.
It’s enough time to get Van over to the alley, where they all scramble back to cover.
“Van.” I get on the headset right away. “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” he mutters.
“Okay. Pony’s already taken off with Jazz and Tank, and I sent Giddy on to the pickup point.”
“Did we get the money?” Van asks.
“Fuck the money,” I snap. “I’m looking to getyouout.”
“Yeah? So get the fuck over here, Cap.”
I pause.
“You alright, Capo?” Max asks. “Saw your ankle give way when you were diving for cover before.”
Damn him. “You all get moving,” I say. “I’ll find my own way.”
“Are youfucking nuts?” Van explodes in my ear, and I pull the earpiece out so I don’t have to listen. As long as the crew is safe, I don’t give a fuck about me. But before I can even think about what to do next, Max Pedretti heads my way.
Heads my way byrunning through a hail of goddamn bullets.
“What thefuckare you doing?” I hiss at him as he ducks down with me behind a dumpster and leans in, hand moving over my leg, making me wince when he squeezes my ankle. The scent of his shampoo wafts under my nose. It’s a lot nicer than the dumpster stink.
