Page 35 of Wicked Lies

“Hey, watch your mouth, all-American boy.” Nick leaned in. “Or did you forget I’m half Cuban?”

“Sorry.” Jax threw up his hands. “I just I don’t think we should be getting others involved in our business.”

“You got a better idea?” Nick waved the glass in his direction. “Carlos and his guys would back us in a minute if it meant breaking away from Frank.”

“And what about his nephew, Alejandro?” Jax mumbled into his glass. “Drugs, getting arrested, doing stupid shit.”

“Big fuckin’ deal. He sounds like half the people we know.” Nick narrowed his eyes and waited a beat. “You got something else to say?”

“Frank ain’t foolin’ around, Nick.” Jax placed his glass on the bar.

“Fuck Frank,” Nick shouted.

“He can hurt you.” Jax removed his jacket, exposing the fear and anxiety seeping through his shirt. “He can hurt all of us.”

“Samson’s in there all busted up, can’t breathe, and your answer is to roll over?”

“At least heis breathing,” Jax shouted. “You keep this shit up, and they’ll be fishing all of us outta the East River.”

Nick’s heart skipped a beat. Jax never lost it, but now his eyes were darting from side to side, his usual somber expression was on edge and animated.

Silence hung between them. The ticking of the wall clock over the bar clicked off the seconds.

Jax ran his hand over the smooth granite. “I didn’t mean nothing.”

“Forget it. It’s been a fucked-up night.” He came around the bar and held Jax’s gaze for an extra second. “You can go if you want. I’ll stay with him.”

“Nah, I’ll stay in case you need anything.”

Nick went back to the bedroom, dropped into the overstuffed chair, and propped his feet up on the end of Samson’s bed.

“Geez, you look as bad as I feel,” Samson rasped.

Nick slid his feet off the bed and leaned forward in the chair. “How’re you doin’?”

“Hurts like a bitch.” Samson dragged in a breath.

“I guess Frank doesn’t like our disrespect.” Nick’s voice vibrated with sarcasm.

“Frank better watch his ass 'cause when I find him . . .” Samson winced in pain.

“Take it easy.” Nick gulped more of the whiskey. “Try to get some sleep.”

“You gonna sit up in that chair all night?”

“Well, I ain’t getting in there with you. So shut the fuck up and go back to sleep.”

Nick leaned back in the chair, and a few minutes later, Samson’s shallow, steady breathing filled the room.

12

“Fuck,” Samson grumbled.“Goddamn.”

Nick blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings in the dimly lit bedroom. “What the hell are you doing?”

Samson clutched the headboard of the bed for support with the bedside lamp in pieces at his feet.

“I tried to get up,” Samson croaked. “I gotta take a leak.”

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