Hitman vs Hitman - L.A. Witt Page 0,27

extreme example—he couldn’t exactly tell her or the judge the truth without winding up in federal prison—but even he knew he could have maybe handled it better. Like, say, he could have apologized for the nonexistent cheating. As anyone who’d ever known him could attest, though, Ricardo was crap at apologizing because that was basically the hardest form of communication, which he was bad at to begin with.

But he was stuck with August for a while. There was no shrugging things off, letting the judge slap him with alimony in perpetuity, and walking away. He had no idea how long they had to put up with each other, only that their lives kind of depended on not being dicks to each other the entire time.

Gaze fixed on the road ahead, Ricardo took a deep breath. “Look, what I said about your house… I didn’t realize you’d, um…”

“What?” August’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You didn’t realize you sounded like a judgmental asshole?”

Ricardo tamped down a retort of “You know what? Never mind, eat a dick,” and pushed out a breath through his nose. “No. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

August’s breath hitched. “Come again?”

Ricardo glared harder at the freeway. “I’m sorry, all right? Now can we—”

“Oh, my.” August put a hand to his chest and sighed dramatically. “I feel like you’re not the kind of guy who apologizes for things. Like, ever.”

Ricardo rolled his eyes.

“We should mark this occasion!” August gestured at an upcoming offramp. “Get off there. I’ll bet there’s a bakery somewhere. We could get a cake that says—”

“For fuck’s sake, shut up.”

August chuckled. “All right, all right. And okay, apology accepted. But seriously, pull off somewhere. I’m starving.”

Ricardo wanted to continue to get as far away from town as possible. He’d shaken off any possible tails, but he didn’t like dawdling when they should be putting as many miles behind them as they could.

But he was getting a little hungry himself. And something told him that the only thing more painful than a road trip with August would be a road trip with a hangry August. Or if he got hangry. No sense finding out if it was possible to want to kill him more than he already did.

“All right,” he said. “We might as well pick up a few things to take to the safehouse anyway.”

“Ooh!” August beamed. “Shopping for road trip snacks? Fuck yeah.”

Ricardo just rolled his eyes and headed for the offramp.

“Okay, so.” August plunked down an armload of plastic grocery bags as he peered around the house with a derisive expression. “I see the ‘house’ side of the equation, but not the ‘safe’ part.”

Ricardo hoisted some more groceries onto the counter beside the others. “Besides the part where no one has any idea we’re here?”

“Pfft.” August started rifling through one of the bags. “We could hunker down at a Chuck E. Cheese and no one would know we were there, but the minute they found us, it wouldn’t be safe anymore, would it?”

Ricardo bit back a retort, choosing his words carefully after August had tipped his hand in the car. “I don’t have a preinstalled moat or anything, but this place is safer than it looks.”

“Mmhmm. Whatever you say, amigo.”

Shaking his head, Ricardo started pulling boxes of Power Bars out of a bag. He ignored August’s cache of chips and Combos. Clearly, he really had gone in with the mindset of a kid going on a road trip. At least he’d been smart and grabbed things like beef jerky and protein bars too. So he was basically half stupid kid and half grown ass adult with working survival instincts. Better than nothing, Ricardo decided, if only because he didn’t want to set off another argument. It had been a long day and an even longer night, and he just wanted to put everything away and get some sleep. Assuming he could sleep, but he was getting into that level of tired where even adrenaline and PTSD couldn’t keep him awake.

Once they’d stocked the cabinets, freezer, and refrigerator, he said, “There’s a bedroom across from mine and another in the basement. Your choice.”

August seemed to consider it for a moment. “I think I’ll take the one closer to yours.”

Ricardo eyed him. Did he really want August Morrison sleeping across the hall from him? No. No, he did not. But he had offered, so he couldn’t exactly rescind it. So, he shrugged. “All right.” He gestured for August to follow him. “There are some clothes in the closet