Page 89 of Cold Hard Cash

“But Jules said—”

“Who do you think is probably being shot at right now?” Dario hissed, wincing at another round of shots. “We’ve gotta get the fuck out of here! Now!”

“Who is that out there?” Jimmy demanded.

“Do you really wanna stick around to find out? Obviously they’re very bad people that are way more bad than the bad people we work for! Let’s fuckin’ go!”

Jimmy found himself being shoved through the curtains, Dario pushing him into a narrow hallway. It felt like his heart was trying to burst out of his chest, and he stumbled as he tried to hurry to the door.

He hoped Jules was okay, and he wished like hell that Cold was here.

“This way,” Dario urged. “We’ll go out through the back, and my car is parked right there.”

“Okay.” Jimmy tried to focus on Dario’s voice and keep his anxiety at bay. They were almost there. The door was right there.

Jimmy reached for the knob, but the door swung open before he could grab it. He yelped, backing away when he saw Vincenzo Luchesi leering at him.

“Just who I was lookin’ for,” Vincenzo sneered, pointing his gun right at Jimmy. His nose was bandaged and both of his eyes were bruised from his scuffle with Tamerlane. He did not look happy to see Jimmy at all.

“Oh God,” Jimmy gasped, his chest tight, staring down the barrel of Vincenzo’s gun. He felt Dario’s hands grab his shoulders, and Jimmy leaned back against him as he panted fearfully.

“Where’s the ring?” Vincenzo demanded.

“The r-ring?” Jimmy was flabbergasted. The hell was the big deal with that stupid ring?

“I-I don’t have it!” Jimmy argued. “I gave it to Cold!”

“Meh.” Vincenzo shrugged. “Ain’t that a fuckin’ shame. Guess we don’t need you then, huh?”

Jimmy’s eyes widened, terror making his blood freeze and his breath catch. “Wait. What?” The gun fired.

Chapter seventeen

“Get down!” Dario screamed, grabbing Jimmy and slamming him to the floor.

Jimmy felt white-hot pain burning his arm and grunted when Dario landed right on top of him. With his ears ringing from the gunshot being in such close proximity, the world spun around him in a violent blur.

There was another shot, and Jimmy thought that was it. Vincenzo had killed him. He could feel something hot oozing down his neck. He could smell blood. He thought it was his own and grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

He thought of Cold then. His voice purring in his ear, his rare smile that made Jimmy’s heart skip a beat, and those icy blue eyes that melted his very soul. He wished Cold was here. He wanted to see him one last time.

No, not Cold.

Rod.

Another shot nearly shattered Jimmy’s eardrums for how close it was, and there was a loud thump in front of him. His eyes fluttered open to see Vincenzo Luchesi spread out on the floor next to him. Blood poured out of his mouth, and his eyes were lifeless pools.

He was dead.

“Oh Christ,” Jimmy groaned.

Dario shouted, rolling off Jimmy as they both scrambled across the ground to back away from the corpse. Jimmy felt sick and struggled to move, his foot sliding in something slick.

Blood.

Jules stood over them, his gun in hand, face terribly concerned. He reached for Jimmy, and he was saying something. He’d shot Vincenzo. He’d killed him.

Holy shit, Jules killed him.