Page 50 of Cash

“I’ll be whatever the fuck I wanna be because since I started seeing you, I’ve had people break into my house twice, and oops! One of them fuckin’ died! This is absolutely insane, I’m pissed off, and—”

Jules took Brick’s wine glass from him.

“Hey!” Brick scowled as he watched Jules set the glass over on the counter. “What are you doing?”

“Fuckin’ apologizing. Now shut up.” Jules cupped Brick’s face and laid a deep kiss on his lips. Even when Brick struggled and tried to argue, Jules didn’t let go. It was passionate, hot, and Brick couldn’t help but be totally consumed by it. He whimpered in submission, his hands finding Jules’s hips and hanging on tight as all his breath was stolen away by Jules’s soft lips.

Brick didn’t fight as Jules backed him up against the counter, and he wondered if they were going to pick up where they’d left off before…

Right.

Before that guy broke his neck falling down the stairs.

Although some of his desire fizzled out from the intense memory, he didn’t stop kissing Jules.

It was a pretty good apology, after all.

Jules hugged Brick’s waist, unhurried but firm, and Brick slid his hands up Jules’s chest as the kiss slowed to brief touches of their lips.

“I am sorry,” Jules said quietly. “Okay? I didn’t mean… for any of this to happen.” He held Brick a little closer. “I gotta keep you safe, okay? And sending you over to my place is the best way to do that. So, that’s what we’re gonna do.”

Brick had the most insane urge to keep fighting. There was a part of his brain that was intrigued by the brewing mystery, and the danger was both terrifying and alluring. Realistically, however, he knew he wasn’t cut out for any of this. He couldn’t even keep up with a damn gun, and the mere thought of that man’s body made his guts turn.

He refused to go down without at least one bit of snark, jabbing, “So your place has an alarm, but do you have a manual? I mean, in the spirit of actually keeping me safe—”

“You little brat.” Jules cackled, then kissed Brick again with a playful snarl.

“Mmm, Daddy…” Brick tried to get back into the mood, but again he saw the dead man. “Sorry, nope, nope. Not into it right now.”

“What’s wrong, baby boy?” Jules nuzzled his cheek with his nose. “Tell Daddy what’s wrong.”

“Uh, can’t stop seeing the corpse on my floor. Kinda killing my boner. I need, uh…” Brick huffed. “I just need a little bit, all right?”

“Of course.” Jules kissed Brick’s brow. “It’s late. Let’s get you packed up, hmm?”

“We’re going right now?”

“No time like the present.”

“Okay. Fine. Good. Great.” Brick scrubbed his face. “Tomorrow is Friday. I can just message my boss and take a sick day or something.” He frowned. “What are the chances of having all this wrapped up by Monday?”

Jules hummed. “Depends on how tomorrow night goes.”

“And what exactly is going on then?”

Jules hummed again, retreating back a few steps. “Hard to say.”

“Uh-huh.” Brick snorted, holding his head high as he rescued his wine glass. He took a sip as he headed upstairs, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach when he crossed the floor where Andrew or Thomas or whatever his name was had landed.

Bottle in hand, Jules fell into step behind Brick. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Well, let’s see. I’m a smart cookie.” Brick swished his hips purposely as he strolled over to his closet to grab a duffel bag. He threw it up onto the bed before whirling around to eyeball Jules. “I can probably figure this out.”

“All right.” Jules leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “Whatcha got, cookie?”

“You are here to retrieve your mysterious stolen item. Mr. Finch was definitely murdered, and it was covered up.” Brick walked back and forth from his closet to the bed, packing clothes as he spoke. “Then we have the men who came after you and also work for the Finches. So, either the family is involved with your mystery item, or that’s one hell of a coincidence.”

Jules scratched his chin, but he said nothing.

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