Page 149 of Shades of Grey & Gold

No time to figure that out.

I walk.

I make it across the street and I’m leaning against the wall of a brick building opposite the raging fire when a car pulls up beside me.

A woman, fifties, a grocery bag on the passenger seat and her window rolling down; an expression on her face of pure horror and her hand flies to her mouth.

“Sir—oh my God—are you—”

“I’m fine.” My voice comes out flat but certain, too certain for a man that’s probably covered in blood. “I just—need to sit down, maybe—”

She gets out of the car, runs over to guide me to the curb.

Hidden behind her car, she starts saying things about calling an ambulance as I nod and watch the flames grow above the building, glowing in the dark night.

I send a silent plea to the universe that Nico got Max the fuck out of here.

I stay hunched down where the light doesn’t touch me.

The fire department arrives, then police cruisers.

Radios and yellow tape going up across the road, controlled chaos. The older woman is talking to one of the officers and I push myself to standing, bracing a hand on my ribs that scream in pain.

I stumble into the shadows half a block down and fold myself against the building, trying to find the strength to keep moving.

As I catch my breath, a dark sedan moves slowly down the street. It’s moving slowly, the windows are rolled down, and I recognize the angle of the jaw of the passenger. The shaved head.

The man from outside the café.

Adrenaline surges and I briefly touch the gun tucked into my waistband.

He’s here to confirm, check for survivors.

He looks at the building, the emergency vehicles. He shakes his head with eyebrows raised and then tilts his chin and the car drives off, windows going up as they roll past me.

I watch the car as it turns at the end of the block.

And I sit with what I know for sure:

Max got out. She had to.

I got out.

And nobody on either side saw me leave.

What they saw was an explosion.

What they will conclude is whatever and whoever was inside is gone.

The Renzettis are known for retaliation.

If I’m dead and Max is alive, Nico has every right to bring the full weight of the family down on the Volkovs. A measured, justified response for the death of a boss.

Controllable, but finite. An eye for an eye. A boss for a boss.

And taking down the Volkovs’ boss will take down their entire operation here in Providence. They won’t be able to survive if they have to rebuild.

On the other hand, the lawyer in me plays devil’s advocate: