Page 92 of Cash

Roland gagged and coughed, clawing at his neck and left reeling.

Brick shoved him off and raced toward the gun, moving on his hands and knees more than anything else as he scrambled to pick it up. He got it, whirling around at Roland and aiming it with his finger on the trigger. “Back up! Back the fuck up right now! I swear to God, I will fucking do it.”

Roland cleared his throat, back on his feet and glaring at Brick. He wiped some blood from his mouth. “Wow. That was fun. I hope your mom fights like that.”

“Fuck you.” Brick pulled the trigger.

Click.

Oh, great.

Roland grinned.

“Eat fucking shit!” Brick lunged and smashed the gun right in Roland’s face.

Finchie must have emptied it when he was firing at the damn ceiling. Unloaded or not, it was still a weapon, and Brick didn’t stop swinging. Roland tried to hit him back, but Brick didn’t even feel it now. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, driving the barrel of the gun into Roland’s face without reprieve.

When Roland went to the ground, Brick went with him. He jumped on Roland’s chest, using both hands now to drive the gun into his head. He didn’t even know what part of Roland’s face he was hitting now. It was all red, and Brick barely flinched when a splatter of blood hit his cheek.

So caught up in his frenzy, Brick hadn’t heard someone coming down the stairs until they were standing right in front of him.

“Brick?”

Brick looked up, gasping as he saw Jules hovering over him with a giant gun in his hand.

“Jules!” Brick dropped the gun and leapt up into Jules’s arms, hugging his neck. “Oh! Fuck! It’s you! It’s really you!”

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here.” Jules held him close, smothering his hair and face with kisses.

The kisses hurt a bit where Brick had been struck, but he didn’t care. He kissed Jules’s face back frantically until their lips came together, and he moaned, thrusting his tongue into Jules’s mouth. There was a time when he honestly didn’t think he was going to make it out of this horrible place alive, much less ever be able to taste these lips again.

Roland grumbled something from the ground.

Jules broke the kiss, baring his teeth in a snarl as he glared down at Roland. Without hesitation, he shot Roland in the head.

Brick winced from the sound, and he stared at Roland’s lifeless body. He was surprised that he didn’t feel much to see someone murdered in front of him. It probably had something to do with this man trying to kill him and threatening his mother. Maybe Brick would be upset about it later, but right now he was struggling to resist a deep satisfaction.

He spat at Roland’s corpse. “Fucker.”

“Are you okay, baby boy?” Jules cradled the side of Brick’s face, more gingerly now as he looked over his injuries.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Brick shook his head. “Okay, I’m not okay, but I’m not hurt. I’ve had worse, all right?” He hugged Jules tight. “Can we leave? Can we please leave?”

“You got it, baby boy. We’re going, okay?” Jules kissed Brick’s forehead. “Daddy’s just gotta finish cleanin’ up and then we’re going.”

“How did you find me?”

“Erasmus did,” Jules said. “He got the hospital security to let him look at their camera footage, and he saw Finchie and that fucker on the ground there carrying you out to a car. Got Cutter to run the plates.”

“And that led you here?”

“Uh, no. That led us somewhere else, and Erasmus got real friendly—”

“Okay.” Brick took a deep breath. “You know, I don’t actually need to know. I really just want to leave.”

“Come on.” Jules wrapped his arm around Brick’s shoulders and led him down the hallway to the stairs.

The stairs opened up into a surprisingly nice kitchen in a clean and orderly older home—well, clean and orderly except for all the corpses. There were at least five dead men that Brick could see, and he quickly averted his eyes.

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