Page 48 of Last Shot

It felt like a massive weight was pushing Grey’s neck down as he tried.

‘It was not your fault.’ The words were heavier than they sounded. Jett wasn’t just talking about the bomb.

Grey shrugged him off, gave his friend a quick grimace of thanks then took a step back. Back to work. ‘Did you get a look at it?’

Jett knew not to push. ‘Yeah. It’s ammonium nitrate.’

‘How the hell do you know that?’

‘Because I’m a reformed terrorist,’ Jett said. ‘I’m insulted. Am I not allowed to know things unless they make abroom broomnoise?’

Despite the smoke and the shattered remains of the cellar around them, Grey let his aching muscles relax into the tiny slice of normality Jett was offering him. ‘I just didn’t think someone could be as good-looking as you are and also an expert on everything,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Einstein, wow my pants off with your explosives knowledge.’

Jett grinned. ‘I confess it is not my good looks or supreme intelligence that takes the credit here, but my woeful stint as a mechanic up at the mines.’

Jett was always vague about his past. Grey knew he’d had a bunch of different jobs, all involving machines. He tried to picture the Jett he knew up in the sweltering north heat in a fluorescent jumpsuit and a yellow helmet. It didn’t fit. Secretly, he was convinced the guy had been an off-the-books contractor for some government department, training AI to destroy another healthy blue-collar industry and that’s why he wasn’t allowed to talk about it.

‘They use ammonium nitrate to blow up mines,’ Jett continued. ‘Farmers use it too.’

‘It’s a mining explosive?’ Grey asked.

‘Looks like it.’

‘How the fuck did it get here?’

Jett held up his hands. ‘That’s where my expertise ends. I just get to look good from here on out and let the ugly people like you and Maxella figure out the why and who.’

‘Hey!’ A voice came from behind Greyson like a hit to the back of his head. ‘I just got blown up, you know – bit harsh calling me ugly!’

Max had obviously extracted herself from Lang, the Bindi Bindi paramedic who owed Gio about a hundred million favours, so he could always be counted on to attend to any mysterious injuries without reporting them to the cops. Grey was also fairly certain he was sleeping with Tomaso. He couldn’t look at her. Not after what he knew had happened in Emilio’s secret hideaway. He’d gone back. It had been happening more often these days. But normally he was on his own when it did.

Grey felt her eyes on him.Don’t look.He didn’t want to see what he knew would be there. Pity. Horror. A sickly combination of both, perhaps. Thankfully, before the silence could stretch to the point of awkward, Grey was viciously attacked.

Nella wrapped her arms around his shoulders and Frankie, being so short, around his middle. Although he was slowly suffocating to death, it was oddly calming.

He awkwardly patted them both on their backs as they sobbed. ‘What? Nella, I didn’t get a word of that.’

‘Eee ... ort ... oo ... ead.’

‘Was she hit by shrapnel?’ Grey asked Jett over Nella’s sweaty hair.

‘She’s sayingWe thought you were dead.’

This provoked Nella into another round of deep, guttural sobs. Frankie sniffled quietly near his armpit.

‘All right, all right.’ Grey tried to pry them off. ‘That’s enough. I’m alive.’ He’d always thought his discomfort with affection was like how some people couldn’t whistle, or were afraid of heights. He drew a deep breath and unhooked Nella’s fingers from his filthy shirt, while Jett watched with an unreadable expression.

The other Barbaranis were standing at staggered points, looking on with caution. No one seemed to know what to say or do. It took Grey a minute to realise they were all waiting for him. He could still feel Max’s gaze cutting through like a blinding crack of sunset, but he couldn’t face her.

He turned back to Nella instead as she wiped her eyes, mascara tracked down her face like ancient tribal markings. Still trying to get his lung capacity back, he waited for Jett to comfort her but instead he was left to watch awkwardly as his friend opened his mouth then closed it again, his body tensing like an animal locked in an invisible cage.

‘I thought you were going to brunch with Eliza?’ Jett said, a glare settling across his face like grey clouds over a horizon. ‘Why were you in the cellar?’

‘I said I was going toFaceTimeEliza,’ Nella said. ‘She’s in Vietnam. Also, in case you haven’t noticed, Ilivehere.’

‘I noticed,’ Jett said quietly, almost to himself. Grey was too tired to umpire whatever this was. ‘Although you only seem to call this place home when it’s convenient to you. And apparentlyconvenient to youcoincides with whenever there’s a bomb explosion.’

‘I can only recall the one bomb explosion – have there been others I missed?’

---