Page 38 of Ready to Cash Out

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to hitta fuckin’ nerve.” Howell grinned. “Chains? Nice. Yous guys are into that real freaky shit, huh?”

The way Howell was looking at Trev made his skin crawl. He’d definitely felt his share of lustful stares, but there was something about this one that unsettled him to his bones.

It flat out gave Trev the creeps.

“It’s business,” Jupiter replied, his eyes narrowing, “and as I already said?—”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s none of mine, right?” Howell stalked the short distance toward Jupiter, his big grin still in place. “Tell ya’ what, bastard.” He flicked Jupiter’s tie. “When I wants some of your lip, I’ll march my happy ass on over there and pick it off that lil’ twink’s zipper. Until then, hows ’bout you keep them pretty teeth of yours nice and tight before I makes ’em not so pretty?”

Jupiter remained very still, but his eyes were practically sparking with his rage.

Howell was about the same height as Jupiter, but Jupiter was easily twice his size. He could probably crush Howell with one quick punch, and Trev was really, really wondering why Jupiter hadn’t blown up on this asshole yet.

“Understood, sir,” Jupiter said with an eerie calm. “I apologize. Please understand that I was given explicit instructions to care for this particular twink and to keep him safe from any harm.”

“Yeah, I gets it. You was just doin’ your job?—”

“I’d hate to think what I would have to do if I was suddenly given the impression that you might be a threat.”

Trev froze.

That sounded like a warning.

Howell’s grin somehow grew even more, and he stepped right into Jupiter’s space until they were nose to nose. “Oh? It’s like that, huh?”

Jupiter didn’t flinch. “It’s very much like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Trust me, bastard.” Howell chuckled, and he roughly adjusted Jupiter’s suit jacket, sliding his hands over the lapels. “If I wanna be a fuckin’ threat, you’ll fuckin’ know it. Won’t even need a neon sign or nothin’. You’ll be able to see this from the fuckin’ moon, okay? Astronauts up in fuckin’ space pissin’ in their lil’ space toilets are gonna have a front row view of ya’ fixin’ to shit yourself when and if I decide to be threatenin’.”

Jupiter frowned. He didn’t seem afraid, but perhaps a bit confused by the off-kilter rambling.

“The fuck?” Trev whispered.

Who the hell was this guy?

Sal came back then, and he scowled. “Is there a problem here, Mr. Hodges?”

“Nope. No problem.” Howell smiled brightly and patted Jupiter’s chest. “Just gettin’ to know this big guy right here.” He smirked at Sal. “Always fun to meet local celebrities, ya’ know?”

“I’m sure.” Sal grimaced. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, sure. Let’s go see this shit.” Howell followed Sal back into the hallway.

As soon as they were gone, Jupiter furiously wiped off his jacket as if Howell had left some sort of residue behind. He mumbled something in Italian, and it definitely did not sound kind.

“You okay?” Trev asked.

“Fine,” Jupiter replied shortly.

“That guy really must be somebody special to let him walk all over you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you really a local celebrity? What are you famous for? Being a giant sack of dicks?”

---