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Van is still going, voice rising and rising. “But he ain’t even an Esposito! And I’m your second! So why does that Castellani get to have your back when—”
“I don’t know why she wants him there, and I don’t care,” I snap back. “That’s what Anna-Vittoria wants, that’s what we do. You want to argue with her, be my fucking guest.”
“Listen,” Van tries, putting on a conciliatory tone that makes my teeth ache. “I just want to make sure you have someone there to look out for you, Bricker.”
“Frankly, I think I’d rather have Pedretti there. At least he can keep his cool.”
Van stares at me for a moment and then turns his back and leaves, the only sounds the slam of the door and the screeching tires as he drives away. I glance over at Max, who remains calm, hands in his pockets, but there’s disapproval in his face.
I shouldn’t have said that to Van. I regretted it even while it was coming out, and now I feel like an asshole. But people are dead and dying. What does it matter whether Van comes with me, when I’m the one who needs to take the blame?
“The Family will keep all this quiet,” I say, after a pause. “Anna-Vittoria’s close with the hospital administrator, not to mention the D.A., and the cops don’t care about a little internecine war.”
On the contrary. It thins out the herd for them.
Pony, who is fidgeting in a corner, looks over at Rook’s body, and then at Max.
“Pony, you should go on home,” Max says. “We’ll take care of Rook. Right, Bricker?”
Suddenly I want nothing more than to be alone with Max—and with Rook. I want to say my sorries and my goodbyes. So I nod. “Go get some rest, Pony.”
“Listen,” Pony says, then pauses, looking doubtfully at me and then Max. “Maybe this isn’t the time…”
“Whatever it is, can it wait?” Max asks softly.
Pony gives a fast nod and is gone a second later. I’m just grateful for Max’s presence right now. That quiet pragmatism is what I need right now. But he looks at me a little sadly.
“You think I was too hard on Van,” I say.
“I think he’s your buddy, and he wants to have your back,” Max says evenly. “But you’ve got a lot of other things on your mind right now. He’ll be okay. So will you.”
“But Rook won’t.” My throat feels thick, like there’s a fist inside me trying to punch its way out. “Rook won’t be okay, and that’s on me.”
Max crosses the floor and sits down next to me on the sofa. “The best we can do for him now is make sure he gets back to his people. Do they know?”
I shake my head. “I’ll have to call them,” I say, dropping my face into my hands. “Oh, Christ. I’ll have to tell his Nonna that her grandson is dead. And she—she raised him.”
Max puts an arm on my back. “It’ll be hard,” he says. “But it’s the right thing to do. The only thing to do.”
“Now?” I ask, almost pleading for him to say no. But he nods.
“Better do it now before they find out some other way,” he says gently.
“I want to…say my own goodbyes to Rook first,” I force out.
Max stands at once. “I’ll wait in the kitchen,” he says. “Put on some coffee, maybe.” On his way out, he stops by Rook’s body himself, bows his head for a silent moment, then crosses himself and leaves me alone in the room.
I go over and pull back the sheet covering Rook’s face. His eyes are closed now. If not for the blood on his face, for the slackness of his jaw, he’d look almost peaceful. But I know better. I know the fear and pain he felt in his final hour, and the guilt yawns before me.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “I should’ve protected you.”
* * *
Max brings me out a coffee heavily laced with bourbon, and after I drink that I get it together enough to call Rook’s grandmother. The wail she gives when she hears the news is too much for me. By the time I hang up, I’m crouched on the floor with my head in my knees, trying not to break down completely.
“Hey.” Max’s voice is the only thing that pulls me back a little from that abyss before me. “Come sit down. I’ll call the funeral home, if you tell me which one you guys use.”
There was a part of me that worried Van was right, that Vanshouldbe the one here with me, helping me cope with all the shit I’ve caused. But the thing about Van is, I can’t show any soft underbelly without him rushing to turn me over again, make sure the hard shell gets the blast instead.
