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But then Tank pipes up with a mixture of relief and anger. “Yeah. The Castellani savedmorethan one life today, and we should all thank him. But you, Van,” he adds, turning his attention to the silent man in the corner, “you got some explaining to do.”
“Leave it,” Bricker says. “We got out. We can do the autopsy tomorrow. I don’t want anyone blaming anyone else.”
Tank snorts. “There’s only one person to blame for that shitshow today,” he mutters, but he sinks back into silence.
As for Delligatti, his eyes darken with fury, but he doesn’t say a word.
He just glares at me.
CHAPTER13
BRICKER
Max issilent the whole way back to my house, and I don’t try to push conversation. The guy looks tired, for one thing, and I have enough to mull over myself as I try to ignore the ache in my ankle.
Another job gone fucking sideways.
And this time it was Van’s fault.
Jobs have been going wrong with enough regularity to make me confront the truth now. Someone’s spilling. And whoever they are, they’re smart enough to make it look like it could always be accidental. But not today. Today was a setup. We were fish in a barrel, and it’s a miracle we’re not all dead.
No—not a miracle. It’s down to Max Pedretti.
“Hey,” Max says as we get nearer to the overpass where all that shit went down. The cops have marked it off, and we have to slow to a crawl as we take the diversion.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “They have no idea who we are.”
“Not that.That.” He points discreetly down the street and I follow his finger to the utility lane that was closed off this morning, the one that Van insisted was open. There are detectives all over the place.
And then I see what Max means. The roadblock is gone; only police tape cordons it off now.
Neither of us make any comment on it. It’s just one more weird detail of the day. Maybe the cops moved the sign so they could get in and out more easily. Maybe any roadworks were pulled after the gunfight on the surrounding streets.
Maybe someone set it up to make sure we were walking into a trap.
Whatever it means, I don’t have the brainpower for it right now.
We get back to my place and Max starts heading up the stairs straight away, until I call him back. “Listen, I know you’re exhausted,” I say. “But you could probably do with a little relaxation before you go to bed.”
He stops on the second step up, turns back, and raises an eyebrow. “Relaxation?” he says.
Shit. I sound like I’m offering a blow job or something. “Uh. Hot tub,” I tell him. “I’ve got one. Out back.”
I lost some of the use of my brain while half of it wandered down the happy path of having this guy’s dick in my mouth. Hey, he saved my life. Someone saves your life, they automatically seem extra sexy.
“Hot tub,” he repeats, and gives a faint smile. “You got all the mod cons here, huh?”
“I don’t know what that means, but Idoknow that hot tub is like magic after a bad day. Come on. Indulge yourself.”
His eyes travel over me. “Why, I don’t have a thing to wear, Mr. Soldano.”
I laugh at the unexpectedness of it. “Fuck clothes,” I say. “Those Nordic types do all that spa and hot tub stuff naked.”
He watches me again for a moment, then shrugs. “My back is killing me,” he says. “So why not?”
* * *
The steam rises from the hot tub like fog once it warms up, and I breathe it in deep, crouched butt-naked at the side. If Max is going naked, I figure I should, too. And I love going nude in this damn hot tub. It was my one self-indulgent renovation after I bought this place, along with the two little huts housing a sauna and a cold plunge pool, although I use them less.
