Page 65 of Cash

“Not anything that would explain this.” Brick frowned. “Just something about getting nicked?”

“Check his pockets?”

Brick went ahead and stuck his hands in Jules’s pants pockets, asking, “What am I looking for exactly?”

“Maybe a note. Pill bottle. A baggie. Anything.”

Brick kept searching, and he stopped when he felt a small tube in Jules’s inside jacket pocket. He pulled it out, blinking stupidly at a plastic syringe half-filled with a blue liquid. “You mean like this?”

“Let me see it.” Cutter took the syringe, squinting at its contents. “Any ideas, Fanny?”

“If I had to guess, it’s rohypnol,” Fanny replied. “You know, the date rape drug? We’d have to test it to be sure, but it used to be a white pill until the drug companies started making them all green with a blue center so it can be detected more easily. If you drop a pill in a clear drink, it’ll turn blue just like that.”

“You’re saying someone, what?” Brick scoffed. “Crunched up some roofies into some liquid to put in a syringe to jab him? Why? Why the hell would someone drug him?”

“My guess is that they drugged him, stabbed him, and hoped he’d bleed out,” Cutter replied. “Mr. Price is a man of extraordinary size. They probably wanted to drug him first before fucking with him.” He looked at Brick. “You saved his life, you know. He would have died.”

Brick appreciated the sentiment, but he was much more focused on making sure Jules was going to be all right. He reached for Jules’s hand, and he hated how cool it felt. He saw Fanny getting out suturing supplies, and he averted his gaze back to Cutter. “If it is rohypnol, how long until he wakes up?”

“Depends on how much they gave him. It doesn’t look like they even got the full dose in him.” Cutter shrugged. “Looks like he pulled out the syringe before they could and he decided to pocket it to figure out what it was later.”

“So, we don’t even know for sure what it is? What if it was poison?” Brick’s panic rose back up in full force. “He could be dying right now—”

“Hey, hey,” Fanny soothed. “I’ve got some of those SipChips in my bag. You know, the little doodads you can pour a few drops of your drink in to test for drugs? I still run calls with EMS sometimes, and it’s always good to have a few on hand for the weekends.”

“Here.” Cutter gestured for Brick to take the IV bag. “I’ll grab the test.”

Brick gently set Jules’s hand down and then got up to grab the bag, grumbling, “I’d feel a lot better if we could just take him to a hospital, but he said not to.”

“Mr. Price says no hospital, that means no hospital.” Cutter rifled through Fanny’s bag to get the test. It was a small disc, no bigger than a quarter, and he headed over to the kitchen counter with it and the syringe. “Tonight is already fucked, and no one here is gonna want to explain how he got drugged and stabbed because the staff will absolutely call the police, and then there will have to be a report filed, okay?”

Brick narrowed his eyes. “You never answered my question by the way. Do you know what happened?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t know? Or no, you know and you’re not going to tell me?”

“How about both?”

“How about if you fucking know something, you share with the class?” Brick all but shouted, his voice rising as his frustration broke what little bit of patience he’d had in reserve. “I’m covered in my boyfriend’s blood, he was apparently fucking drugged, and I have no idea what the fuck even happened to him!”

Fanny had finished suturing and was cleaning up the wound with some gauze. He glanced nervously between Cutter and Brick, sensing the brewing tension and clearly not a fan of it.

Cutter was unaffected by Brick’s anger, other than appearing annoyed. “All I can tell you is that this little test just popped positive, so we can say for sure he was drugged with something by a person or persons unknown. You want to know what happened? Ask Mr. Price whenever the hell he wakes up.”

“Depending on the dose, it could be anywhere from eight to twelve hours,” Fanny interjected as he removed the IV. After putting a small bandage on the puncture site, he removed his gloves. He struggled to get back up to his feet, wobbling a little before catching himself. “Uh, so, it might be shorter, maybe longer.”

Brick kept his hateful gaze trained on Cutter, but to Fanny he said, “Thank you.”

“I’m going now.” Fanny hurriedly cleaned up the mess, including taking the IV bag from Brick, and then came back to pack his bag. “It’s, uh, it’s been something. Call me if anything else comes up.”

“See you around, Fanny,” Cutter said briskly.

Fanny left without another word.

The front door slamming shut made Brick jump, and he kneeled beside Jules to grab his hand. He was relieved that it felt warmer than before. “So. What now?”

“I’m going home to think about changing careers.” Cutter snorted. “You can tell Mr. Price that he’s used his one fuckin’ favor, all right? I’m done with this shit.”

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