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Brick realized with Jules’s pants down and the way he was bent over to put the bandages on definitely looked like he’d been sucking Jules’s dick. He groaned, blushing furiously. “We’re not doing anything! I’m just trying—”

“Nope, fuckin’ nope. It’s fine.” Junior waved, but he still didn’t look back. “Yous guys do your fuckin’ thing.”

“We already done fucked,” Jules grumbled. “He’s just cleanin’ up my stitches, dumbass.”

“Whatever yous two are doin’, I’m not doin’ any studyin’ up on anatomy, all right?” Junior snorted. “Just lemme know when the anaconda is back in its fuckin’ cage?”

Jules rolled his eyes, not the least bit embarrassed about being caught literally with his pants down. Brick was flustered enough for both of them, and he scrambled to get the other bandages on.

Once Brick was done, Jules grunted and pulled his sweats back up. “There. All better, Junior.”

“You good?” Junior turned cautiously as if he expected Jules to still be exposed. When he saw that everything was covered and tucked away, he hurried on over. “Okay, so, look. Me and Raz ain’t seen any sign of Finchie yet, but everybody there is sayin’ he ain’t comin’ until tonight on account of how distraught and shit he is.”

“Yeah.” Jules scoffed dryly. “Real distraught over killin’ his old man.”

“Right? But that ain’t all. Wait until I tells you what’s behind door number two.” Junior looked to Brick. “Your little friend that was singin’ about Finch III being murdered? What was her name? Trixie?”

“Yes?” Brick froze, and his blood began to ice over. “What about her?”

“Turns out somebody didn’t like her little song.” Junior grimaced. “It’s all they can fuckin’ talk about over there. She was workin’ late last night, slept over at the funeral home, and when she went outside for an early morning smoke, bam!”

“Bam what?”

“Somebody stabbed her.”

Chapter Fourteen

“What?” Brick’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Oh, it gets fuckin’ worse,” Junior said in a very inappropriately excited tone. “They didn’t just stab her, see. First, somebody got her in the neck with a syringe and they dragged her into the parking lot—”

“Junior,” Jules warned, glancing worriedly at Brick.

“—and then they stabbed her. Some manager prick who works there found her this morning with the syringe thing still stickin’ outta her neck.”

“Christ.” Brick felt sick, and his skin was getting clammy. “Is she okay? Where is she?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know.” Junior blinked.

“Is she even alive?” Brick demanded as he leapt to his feet.

“Yeah, yeah! Hold your fuckin’ horses, beefcake man!” Junior waved his hands. “They said she was at some hospital, okay? So, she’s alive. Cops were pokin’ around at the funeral home while we were there, still talkin’ to staff and shit.”

Brick’s rage bubbled through him like a flash of boiling water, but it quickly succumbed to dread. Trixie and the guys from the funeral home were the closest things to friends he had, and the thought of her or any of them being hurt twisted up his guts.

Jules took his hand, gently squeezing, and it was a lifeline out of Brick’s swirling misery.

It was going to be okay.

Fuck if he knew how, but the reassuring smile on Jules’s face was instantly soothing, and Brick took a deep breath. He nodded to himself, and he worked on calming down.

“Where’s Erasmus?” Jules asked Junior shortly as he guided Brick back to the couch.

Brick went willingly, and he leaned into Jules’s strong arm winding around his shoulders.

“I left him over there,” Junior replied. “He blends in like a fuckin’ ghost, you know. The two of us was gettin’ a bit spotty with all them cops. Ha, plus all these paramedics showed up for Mrs. Finch havin’ some kinda faintin’ spell when somebody tried to touch her husband’s dead body. It was fuckin’ hilarious. Anyway. I told Raz I’d come back over here and lay low for a bit. He’ll let us know when and if he spots Finchie.”

Brick couldn’t stop thinking about Trixie’s face and how pretty she was when she smiled. She had always been so complimentary of his yard and loved to gossip with him. He thought about the little flamingo she’d gotten for him, and his anxiety continued to rise. He scrambled to pick up the bottle of whiskey so he could take a big gulp. “Shit, shit, shit.”

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