On the one hand, this was appalling—in a lot of ways—including the betrayal of a lover, which for all his aplomb, Brady knew had to hurt.
And on the other hand, it was reassuring. Because it meant Eric was not bullshit. It meant when he said he cared about right and wrong, he meant it. Brady may have to get used tohowhe meant it, but he could say the examples Eric had given so far had been pretty convincing. That some men need killing.
Maybe Brady was broken in the same place, he thought, but he hadn’t known it before.
Or maybe realizing that his department had been planning to kill him and write it off as his own incompetence had broken it for him. All he knew—all hereallyknew—this cold winter night in the desert, was that the man next to him, providing warmth, comfort, and safety, was not the worst thing the world had to offer.
That maybe, in a perfect world, one that hadn’t broken him, Charlie Grackle might be the best.
At the Hanging Stoplight
ACE LOOKEDat the guy in the kitchen with irritation. It was true—he’d suspected he and Sonny might be in some danger, but he was pretty sure onceheleft the garage in the flashy car, and made a big deal about it, Sonny would be safe.
This asshole here, with the limp and the it’s-been-a-while-since-hot-water smell, had blown that idea right out of the water, and Ace was grateful to the guy and the risk he’d taken, but he was also… out of sorts.
Sonny was squinting at him. “Wait,” he said, trying to put this moment into perspective. “Didn’t Ishootyou?”
“Yes,” said the man simply. “But you could have shot me in the head, and you did not. And then he—” He nodded at Ace. “—could have dropped me off in the desert to die, and he dropped me off at an urgent care clinic instead.” He leveled a sad-eyed, stubbled gaze at Ace. “I owed you.”
Ace massaged the bridge of his nose. God save him from debts like this one. “Well, we appreciate the warning,” he said, hoping it came with more grace than he felt. “You don’t happen to know how to work on cars, do you?”
Sonny glanced at him. “Why do you need someone who can work on cars?”
Ace shot him an unhappy look. “Because we need to get you out of here, but we needsomebodyto work the shop! Sonny, we can’t just clear out—we’ll never be able tocome back. This is our home! I’ve got plans to help Brady, mind you, but….” Hemassaged the bridge of his nose again. “But I wanted a place to come home to,” he added rather plaintively.
“I can work on cars,” said their unwelcome visitor.
Ace stared at him. “Do you even got aname,son?”
“Dimitri,” said the man, shrugging. “Last name varies.”
Ace and Sonny blinked at each other.
“Oddly enough, we’ve got IDs and car registration for that exact guy,” Ace muttered. Although this thin, bedraggled specimen with the lank hair and wispy beard looked nothinglikeJai, who often went by Dimitri when they were forging IDs forhim.
Come to think of it, this guy was Sonny’s size—they might even have clothes and coveralls for him too.
Sonny glanced at Ace. “Whatcha thinkin’?”
Ace gnawed his lower lip. “I’m thinkin’ Dimitri here might want a shower and a shave and some clean clothes after he finishes off his pizza. What do you think, sir?”
Dimitri glanced up from the pizza. It was the first thing they’d offered after he’d wandered out of the desert to stand gazing at Sonny and Ace’s front door. The dog had gone absolutely batshit, and they finally glanced out to see what was up and had seen him out there, gazing at their little house like their porch light was the golden light of a chorus of angels.
The expression on his face now was that same soulful yearning.
“A bath?” he asked. “Clean clothes?” He swallowed. “A razor?” He scratched at his wispy beard. “It fuckin’ itches,” he muttered.
Ace thought of his travel kit, with the disposable razor, hotel soaps, and conditioners.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sure. Sonny, you wanna get the kit out of my suitcase—and one of the towels from the mudroom.”
The mudroom towels were the ones that never quite got the smell of grease out of them. Ace hated to give him one, but they had been washed and dried as often as possible, and while thin in places, they wouldn’t spread motor oil all over this poor man’s ass.
And they wouldn’t have to worry about his critters getting in their clothes.
Dimitri shoved the last of the pizza in his mouth and swallowed. “Them cops,” he muttered. “I-I was in the homeless shelter in Barstow when some of them came in, looking for that bank robber. And one of the folks in there said, ‘Wait a minute—that’s not a bank robber. I was at the bank that day—that’s the cop that they were gonna kill!’” He gave Ace a bleak expression. “They took that guy outside. I didn’t see him again.”
Ace got a sick feeling in his stomach. “Was he a shelter resident?” he asked. He knew that the homeless population out here was pretty mobile. Big rigs, farm trucks, railroad tracks—when the weather was temperate like it was now, the guy getting his SSI check in Baker could very well be in a shelter in Barstow.
