Page 69 of Cash

The sound of a horn honking drew his attention, and he crept over to the window to peek outside.

There was a huge line of cars backed up on Saint Mary’s Street.

“The fuck?” Brick frowned, and he walked to another window that faced West Lane Street.

The funeral home was packed, and one of the hearses was pulled out front. The traffic appeared to be people trying to park in the side parking lot, which was full, and they were having to drive farther to the lot down the block. There were men in suits moving up and down the sidewalk, trying to direct people around, but the sheer volume of cars was a nightmare.

Brick didn’t know whose funeral it was today, but it was a big one.

A knock at the door drew his attention away, and he froze.

He certainly wasn’t expecting anyone, and he wondered if it was Fanny or Cutter coming back by to check on Jules. He tiptoed to the door to peek through the peephole.

It was two men, both in suits. One was tall and gangly, and he rocked back and forth on his heels like he was in a hurry. The other man was startlingly attractive, but he was as still as a statue, and his bright gaze was unnaturally intense.

Brick would almost swear that the guy was looking back at him through the peephole.

The tall man knocked again, louder this time.

“Who the fuck is it?” Jules grunted, up now and glaring at the door.

“Uh.” Brick frowned. “It’s some tall skinny white guy who looks constipated and this other white guy… well, to be perfectly honest, he’s got amazing cheekbones, but he looks creepy as fuck.”

Jules relaxed, and he smiled. “Let ’em in.”

“Are you sure?” Brick raised his brows. “You’re not still confused, are you?”

“Nah, they’re okay. Think of ’em as extended family.”

“All right.” Brick grimaced, but he opened the door with as friendly of a smile as he could muster. “Hi.”

“Who the fucking fuck are you?” the tall man demanded.

“I’m Brick Brixton, who the fuck are you?” Brick snapped back. He hadn’t had enough coffee to deal with anyone’s attitude.

“You best get the fuck up outta my way or else you’re gonna trip over my big ol’ swingin’ dick,” the man declared. “I’m motherfuckin’ Maurice Martine Junior, and I came to save the goddamn day.”

Chapter Twelve

“Now who the fuck are you?” the skinny man demanded.

“I just told you!” Brick barked as he rose up to his full height, nose to nose with him. “I’m about to be that guy that stomps your scrawny little ass down into the floor.”

The skinny man laughed, grinning over at the other man beside him. “I like this fucker.”

“They’re okay, baby boy,” Jules reassured Brick. “Let ’em in.”

Brick stepped aside, waiting for both men to come in before shutting the door and locking it.

“That’s Junior and Erasmus,” Jules said. “We call him Raz. He don’t like it though.

“No, he does not,” Erasmus confirmed quietly as he kneeled beside Jules, offering him a hand to shake. “Good to see you, Jules.”

“You too, Raz.”

Erasmus looked up at Brick, his cutting eyes drilling into him. “Brick? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Yeah.” Brick wasn’t sure what to do with himself, and he decided to lean up against the wall beside the door. “That’s me.”

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