M, did you sell the team out?
Tony was frowning. “Funny. That gas, the knockout gas? Screwed up my memory. I don’t have a clue.”
Matt looked him over carefully. “Okay. Sure.”
Tony said, “See you.”
“Yeah, see you.”
Matt started for the lot where his Camaro would be parked. Tony headed toward the back door of the station, where he’d see if he could check out a car until his was brought around from the pound. It would have been towed back here after the shootout at the factory.
Tony got ten feet before something struck him in the back, a gentle tap. He heard a pebble clatter to the sidewalk. Another bounced off his shoulder. He turned. Matt had scooped up a handful of small stones from a landscaping bed. He tossed another one, which Tony dodged.
“The fuck?”
“I’ll buy you a beer.”
“I gotta get home. Lucy.”
Another pebble came Tony’s way. Hit his thigh. “Asshole.”
“One beer.”
“I gotta get—”
Matt tossed one more.
Tony bent down and got his own supply of ammunition. He launched some Matt’s way.
One bounced off his brother’s forehead. “Ow, fuck.”
“You started it.”
“One beer.”
Tony dropped the stones, which clattered sharply as they dispersed. “Where were you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” Matt looked around and shrugged. “We’ll find a place.”