Page 73 of Agony

The rest of the five people at the table looked at him and Justice shook his head, dropping his cards face down.

“Fold,” he said and shoved his money to the middle of the table before he stood and followed after Memphis.

Reaching the next set of black curtains, he pulled them apart and stepped into the hallway beyond.

What he saw punched the air from his lungs.

Stunned didn’t begin to describe the feeling of when he came face to face with Fisher.

Fisher looked just as surprised as he was until fury swept over the man’s gorgeous face.

That long dark hair was loose around Fisher’s shoulders and the dark clothes he wore made him appear even smaller.

Looks were deceiving, though. Justice knew that all too well.

He fully expected Fisher to lay into him, but the man spun around and ran.

Justice launched after the darting figure. If he didn’t catch Fisher inside the building, he would have no chance in hell of catching him once he was outside.

Fisher was fast, but Justice had the arm reach in his favor, plus a box sitting against the hallway wall blocked Fisher’s path. Justice caught a hold of the man’s flying hair and fisted it. The grip yanked Fisher back.

“Owe, fucker!” Fisher snarled.

With his other hand, Justice fisted the man’s sweatshirt and released his grip on Fisher’s hair.

Fisher swung around and punched him in the face. Justice grunted and took the hit. He tightened his grip.

When Fisher made to slip out of the sweatshirt, Justice wrapped his free arm around the man’s waist.

“Let go of him!” a young voice shouted just before a slender youth came flying down the hallway toward them.

“Boston, no!” Fisher yelled.

Ahead of them, Memphis came out of a side door. The big assassin took one look and snagged the kid around the waist. The kid went ballistic and Memphis grimaced when the boy’s elbow hit his ribs.

“You got him?” Justice called.

“Go,” Memphis said with a grimacing nod.

Kicking open the nearest porn viewing room, Justice stepped inside.

“Get the fuck out,” he growled at the two occupants.

They scrambled out, tugging clothing back into place, and Justice shoved Fisher into the room before closing the door and planting himself in front of it.

Groans and moans came from the small screen on the wall.

Fisher pulled his gun.

Slowly, Justice crossed his arms against his chest, careful not to make any sudden movements.

“Move!” Fisher glared, pointing the gun at his chest.

“No.”

“If your friend hurts Boston, I’ll —”

“Memphis won’t hurt him.”

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