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But he makes the phone call, speaking in code to the Esposito cleaner. I interpret the euphemisms easily enough—the house will be razed to the ground, but with enough care to ensure the rest of the neighborhood is safe. Once the call ends, Bricker gives a heavy sigh.
“Just drive,” I say gently. “The past is done. You can’t change it. All that matters now is your crew and your Family.”
He gives me a strange look. “My crew and my Family,” he agrees. “And…” But then he shakes his head. “Let’s get moving.”
Bricker starts the engine and pulls onto the road, the Lair dwindling in the rearview mirror behind us.
* * *
Back at his house, I settle in at the dining table with the remains of the cheap burner phone. It’s a mess of melted plastic and charred circuits, but if there’s anything to recover, I’ll find it.
Bricker hovers at my shoulder, watching me work. “You really think you can get anything off that?”
“If it was easy, you wouldn’t need me.” I give him a wry smile. “Relax. Why don’t you make us some coffee?”
He wanders off to brew a pot, leaving me in peace to focus. One night soon, we’ll have to ditch the caffeine. But not tonight. Carefully, I disassemble what’s left of the phone under the bright light of the overhead fixtures. It’s slow, painstaking work, trying to preserve any components that might retain data.
A half-hour passes in silence before Bricker speaks up again. “How’d you get to be so good with this tech stuff anyway?”
“Picked up a few things in my misspent youth.” I glance up to find him watching me with a mix of curiosity and wariness. “I had a stint in the joint pretty young,” I continue evenly. “You learn skills to pass the time. Turned out I had an aptitude for this kind of thing.”
“And the Castellanis just...took you in after that? After prison, I mean?”
“No, I…” I met his dad there in the big house. Fabi saved my life from some asshole looking to make a name for himself. And after we got out, Fabi and I teamed up. “I did a few different things. The banks, you know. But I got out of that before I got put away. I had a cousin who was with the Alessis in New York. He told me to come out East, join up. But I like the sunshine here in Cali, and anyway, the Castellanis were okay with, well, you know.”
“The gay thing?”
“The gay thing. And then I proved useful.” I shrug. “And loyal.”
“Who’d you work under? I mean, which Capos?”
“Most of them are retired now. But I worked under Al Montanari for a while. Bertinelli for a few months, but he was already long in the tooth when I was with him. A few more, here and there—” I list them out, trying to remember the timeline. It all seems so long ago. “But then the Boss pulled me for security at Redwood.”
“Damn.” Bricker whistles, clearly impressed. “You’ve worked with some big names, Pedretti.”
“And they all had their own way of leading,” I go on, my hands still carefully working on the phone’s delicate components. “But you’re just as good as any of them, Bricker.”
“Huh. So…exactlyhowokay were all those Capos with the gay thing?” He tries to sound casual, but his face reddens as I take a closer look at him.
“Are you trying to ask if I slept with any of them?”
“Of course not!” His cheeks go an even deeper shade of red.
“You’re the only Capo I’ve ever thought about like that,” I tell him frankly, meeting his eyes. “And the only one I’ve slept with. And hell, maybe it shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t regret it, Bricker.”
Bricker seems both embarrassed and pleased by my admission. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Well, uh, good to know. I don’t…you know, regret it either.”
Neither of us are great with emotional declarations, so I leave it at that and return to the phone. But inside, I’m getting more and more torn up over whether to break Anna-Vittoria’s directive to keep my past with Fabi Soldano quiet.
If things go on like they have been, I’ll have to tell Bricker. And I’ll have to explain why the hell I didn’t tell him weeks ago.
But now isn’t exactly the best time.
Besides, I’ve finally managed to get enough together to start extracting data. Bricker moves to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder. “There,” I say, tapping at the laptop screen where I bring up the data. “Last few calls and texts.”
“Can you trace the number?” Bricker’s voice is tight with anticipation.
“No. But Jack could. Unless you Espositos have someone—”
