Page 37 of Brick

Tre didn’t seem to care. He swung around to face the crowd, cock still in hand. “Anybody else want a piece of this?”

Nobody said a word.

Stuffing his junk back into his pants, Tre puffed up like a proud peacock. “I didn’t think so.” He pulled out the switchblade he’d pocketed earlier and sliced off Bennie’s index finger. He shoved it in his jacket pocket before strutting out the front door.

The last thing Brick wanted to do was stick his hands in Tre’s piss.

No. The last thing he wanted to do was to face Sucre not knowing whether Bennie was dead or alive.

He reached down and checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one. Then he dug out Bennie’s wallet from his damp jacket, removed the forty dollars nestled inside, and dropped the fake leather on the dead man’s chest.

Shit. His thoughts about Olivia had consumed him so much tonight, he’d forgotten his backpack. “I’m going to need a tarp.”

The bartender cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh, got one in the bed of my truck.”

“Get it. When I’m gone, you can let the guys locked in your storage room out. I’ve got no beef with them, but I don’t think they’ll take this very well.”

It took him ten minutes to roll Bennie in the heavy plastic and toss his body in the back of his pickup. He drove straight to El Cabron, where Tre strutted around the bar like king of the fucking world.

“Took you long enough, man. Didn’t think you wanted me to go see Sucre without you, but you know how the man hates to be kept waiting.” Tre chuckled low and rubbed his tongue across his bottom lip.

Dumb fuck had no idea what he was in for.

He followed the kid silently to Sucre’s throne, took his traditional seat, and waited for Tre to dig himself in deeper.

Tonight, Sucre wore a deep amber suit. He brushed at his lapel as Tre stood in front of him, practically bouncing on his feet. “I take it you had a successful evening, Tre?”

“Fucking A. Bennie thought he could get the drop on me. Set up a fucking ambush at his place, but I didn’t fall for it. Nope. Tracked him and his hombres to some dive bar. Picked his guys off one by one, and shazam.” He clapped his hands together. “Easy pickings.”

Sucre shot him a bored look. “And my money?”

Tre swallowed, probably now beginning to realize the depth of his mistake.

“You did ask about my money. Right?”

“Obviously he didn’t have it, boss, so he tried to get the jump on me.”

Sucre narrowed his eyes. “So, he’ll have it tomorrow? What did he say? Exactly.”

Tre blinked quickly, his brain likely making all those connections he should have considered an hour ago. “He didn’t say anything, boss.”

Sucre stood, and the girls at his feet scattered. “Why not?”

Throwing his shoulders back, Tre went all in. “Because he was too busy getting his ass kicked. Fucker needed to learn you don’t mess with me.”

The deep, low laugh from Sucre’s throat made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“He learned he doesn’t mess with you?”

Sucre never looked away from Tre, but Brick knew what would come next. “Brick. Who exactly should people in this town know not to mess with?”

He rose to his feet and nodded with deference. “You, Sucre.”

Tre spoke up. “I meant—”

Sucre wrapped his hand around the column of Tre’s neck before he could finish making his excuse. The men stood about the same height, so they stared at each other eye-to-eye. “Tell me, Tre, what condition did you leave Bennie in after this lesson of yours?”

Tre didn’t answer.

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