45. Mac
45
Mac
Why don't we stay?
At 7 PM sharp, I’m the first to the kitchen table, and I crack my beer while I wait for the other two. Wes pings us that he’ll be right in, and Dimitri reads it but doesn’t offer the same courtesy. I know he’s just getting dressed after his shower.
A few minutes later, Dimitri greets me with a curt nod and heads to the freezer, where his prized bottle of flavorless booze chills on its side. He grabs a lowball glass and joins me. His pour is heavy-handed; the only time I see him drink more than a few shots is when we celebrate finishing a job, but I’ve never seen him drunk. I’m pretty sure at his size he can put it away.
Wesley enters seconds later and crosses right to the drink fridge.
“Why did Eleanor burst into tears when she came into my office earlier?” Wes asks.
“Obviously it was something you said,” Dimitri assumes, taking a gulp and turning his head to the side slightly as the only indication of the burning liquid traveling down his throat.
Wes joins us and pops the cork on a bottle of champagne, tilting his glass and pouring it ⒉／⒊ of the way. “You think I’d still have my tongue if Loverboy thought something I said upset her?”
Dimitri raises an eyebrow and looks my way. “Perhaps no,” he says, tone full of approval.
“She’s just sad—doesn’t want this to end. She keeps saying she’s going to miss the two of you… can’t imagine why, though.”
Wes smiles before taking his first sip. “She’s a proper sweetheart.”
“Enough discussion of women,” Dimitri says. “Did the FBI find the guns? ”
Wes nods. “I’ve got an ear on the chatter, making sure they reach the right conclusions about the bodies. The mayor’s death won’t stay quiet much longer. A day at most, is my guess.” He pauses, then asks, “What happened to the rest of the crates, Dimitri? The truck had all 24 when we parked it in that warehouse.”
“I split the shipment for safe keeping,” Dimitri replies nonchalantly. “I left some guns and the explosives, in case we decided we did want to blow up the warehouse.”
“What happened to the rest?” Wes asks, taking a sip.
Dimitri cocks his head at Wes’s interest. “They are taken care of. You are concerned that I have these weapons now, or that you do not know where they are?”
It’s an open challenge, and I frown, looking between them. What is this all about?
Wes places his glass back down and twists it from the base of the stem. “I think they all should have gone into evidence lockup. Anyone paying close attention will know the FBI didn’t seize it all, like Rossi’s original buyer.”
“The buyer will likely assume Rossi decided to separate and sell off smaller pieces. But he is dead and they cannot kill him again, so I do not think we will have to deal with them.”
“So, where are they?” I ask the obvious question.
Dimitri cuts me a look. “I have them locked away somewhere very safe. There may come a time where we can use them and we will be glad they are not all in federal storage. You trust me, yes?”
I sit back with a shrug. “Good enough for me.”
Wes presses his lips together and, after a second, nods his head thoughtfully. “You’re the one that’s always on about good communication. Would have been nice to know you did it. That’s all.”
“I agree,” I say. It does irritate me that Dimitri went off on his own and did something without us, but I don’t have much of a leg to stand on with that one. “Not that it really impacted our plan in the end, but it could have caused an issue if the mayor hadn’t shown when he did.”
“True,” Dimitri agrees. “I promise not to do this kind of thing again. We must all trust each other, yes? ”
I don’t miss the way he looks at Wes when he says it, though whether it’s because Wes didn’t confirm that he trusted Dimitri when I did or that there’s something else brewing, I’m not sure. I should keep an eye on this.
“Absolutely,” Wes answers without pause this time, satisfying Dimitri.
“Speaking of trust…” I pivot, dispelling the tense moment. “McCloskey said something about Anderson being the one with the contacts. Isn’t it weird that we only got Rossi’s name?” I say, taking a swig and looking at Wes. I don’t know what his connection really is with this man we call The General.
“I think it’s much more curious that we followed Rossi for weeks and never caught wind of Anderson’s part in it,” Wes says with a sigh. “I don’t like feeling like I’ve lost my edge.”
“We must learn from this error,” Dimitri decides. “We probably should start bugging their homes.”
Wes rolls his eyes. “It’s an infringement—”
“Oh, you think so?” Dimitri interrupts with a scoff. “So much more invasive than murdering them?”
“It’s not just the target that lives in a home. There are usually innocents there, too, and that’s an infringement on their right for privacy. Mac, back me up.”
I hold up my hands, thinking about how I’d handled Eleanor’s right for privacy. “You really don’t want me weighing in on this one.”
“So, where will everyone go next?” Dimitri asks, finishing his glass of vodka. He reaches for the bottle to pour another.
“I was thinking of staying until the lease runs out,” Wes says, looking towards me. “If I’m not intruding in the love nest, that is…”
My grin is wry. “You have as much right to stay here as me. You, too, if you’re not trying to rush off,” I tell Dimitri.
He shrugs. “I am not in a rush. I can stay until the next job brings us somewhere else. It would be good, too, to keep a close eye on the FBI while they work on the investigation into the mayor’s death.”
“And after that?” I ask, taking another swig.
He shrugs .
I sit back, considering it. Ever since Eleanor revealed how sad she was to be leaving Wesley and Dimitri, it got me thinking. “Why don’t we stay? In this house. All of us. It can be our headquarters or something. The house is for sale, right?”
Dimitri and Wes exchange a surprised look. Then, Wes’s eyes dart side to side as he considers it seriously. Dimitri just shakes his head and downs another shot.
“We’d have to give this place a serious security upgrade,” Wes says, his entire body perking up at the prospect.
Dimitri turns on him. “You are considering this? When the next job comes in, you know we need to drop everything at a moment’s notice—”
“We can carpool,” Wes points out helpfully. “And the fiber optic situation is way better here than in a lot of other places we’ve been.”
Dimitri narrows his eyes at Wes like his words are some kind of betrayal. “It is too crowded in this city,” he decides.
“It’s easier to be anonymous in a crowd.”
“Not when you live in the most ostentatious house on the block.”
My lips twitch—not much I can argue with, on that point. “This place has, like, 10 acres, we’ll never even see our neighbors. Plus, every other rich son of a bitch around here has their own staff of personal security.” I rub my fingers together between our faces. “Money talks loud enough that no one asks any questions, right?”
“Hide in plain sight, I say.” Wes takes a delicate sip from his champagne.
Judging from the look on his face, though, our surly Russian friend is still not convinced. “You’re telling me you like living out of shitty motels?” I press.
Dimitri crosses his arms. “You cannot get away from shitty motels in this line of work,” he argues.
“Yeah, but this can be home base. Somewhere to return to that’s central so we’re all close if something happens.”
“Just think, somewhere permanent you can get your fancy custom knives delivered,” Wes goads.
I sit back with a grin. When Wes gets on board enough to start helping make my point, it’s all over. Dimitri never stands a chance in two against one. Unless he’s got a knife .
“We can each have our own floor, if you want. No danger of seeing anyone else’s junk. Dibs on the top floor,” I add quickly.
Wes sighs dramatically. “Of course the sniper wants the best view.”
I shrug, unapologetic.
Dimitri’s face is lost in thought as he reaches for his glass. “It is a risk,” he says gravely. “Someone could more easily take out all of us if they find out we are in the same place.”
“Leave that to me,” Wes pipes in. “I’ll make sure none of our names are on it. And how much do you want to bet one of these rich twats already has the requests in the proper channels to make this a no-fly zone?”
“I will not take that bet,” Dimitri adds, humor sparkling in his eye. It’s dry, but at least he’s showing he understands the humor, even if he still can’t bring himself not to meet it with austerity. Progress.
“So, it’s settled? We’ve got a home base?”
“I suppose you will want her to live here, too?” Dimitri cocks a brow at me.
“Kind of implied. She goes where I go.”
Wes’s lips twitch. “Just try not to shake the chandeliers.”
“No promises,” I laugh, then turn to Dimitri. His approval is moot—either she stays or the whole thing is off and I’m keeping the house for myself. “That okay by you?”
“She does know how to make pelmeni,” he says thoughtfully. “I will consider this. It is not so bad of an idea to have a base of operations while we work together. Though I agree with Wesley—you must learn to reign in your impulses. I will not live in a sex house.”
Wes chokes on his champagne and even I find his phrasing more entertaining than offensive.
“You think I could not hear you? You are only one floor away and sound travels,” he adds, making a face. “Though I suppose the two of you have… calmed down.”
Wes chimes in with a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, trouble in paradise already?”
I roll my eyes, but my hands tense in warning. “I’d just like to remind you both that turnabout is fair fuckin’ play. If you ever manage to build yourself some kind of fuckable computer,” I nod at Wes, “or if you find someone to melt that icicle in your chest,” I direct to Dimitri, “I’m going to be right there. I can’t wait to give y’all the same shit you’ve been giving me.”
“I do not have an icicle in my chest,” Dimitri scoffs. “Though I have a story of a man who was impaled that way and the police could not figure out what happened to the murder weapon because—”
“It melted,” Wes and I finish in unison.
Dimitri scowls. “You have heard this story?”
“Urban legend, big guy,” I say, leaning forward and clapping him on the shoulder. “Everyone’s heard that story.”
“It is not an urban legend,” Dimitri retorts. “His name was Leonov. Icicles are too slippery to get a proper grip, but a fortuitous weapon choice, as it turned out.”
Wes and I glance at each other and I feel my jaw fall slack. “Are you saying… you…” I scoff. “No way.”
“You don’t believe that I did it?” Dimitri asks, his brow lifting. “Hmm. Good.”
Wes and I exchange a hard look. He shakes his head. “No way,” he says, echoing my sentiment.
With a laugh about the enigmatic nature of hitmen, I raise my beer between us. Dimitri hits it with the bottom of his lowball and the delicate clink of Wes’s champagne flute has me rolling my eyes.
“You’re such a fancy little boy,” I mutter.
“A fancy little boy who knows your social security number, so don’t test me.”
I grin and look between them. For once in my life, I feel like I’ve really got everything.
My team. My friends. My brothers.
And my woman.