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Trev snorted and then abruptly left, heading into the hallway to find Jules and Juicy.

Cold was an asshole.

A frustrating, know-it-all, smug asshole.

While Trev could appreciate the family resemblance, it only pissed him off at the moment, as it was not currently doing him any favors. The information about the club and the park had meant something, as did the photographs. Trev reasoned Cold knew that he would never destroy them, so threatening to would carry no weight.

Fine. Whatever. He’d figure out some other way to get him and Jupiter out of here.

He followed the sound of Jules yelling and Juicy screeching back and forth, finding them in a formal den. There wasn’t a television in here, but there were several electrical outlets, and Juicy was rubbing potato slices over one of the sockets.

“The fuck!” Jules bellowed. “Listen, old man, I ain’t above smackin’ you if you don’t quit that shit.”

“I’m almost done!” Juicy argued. “This is for your protection!”

“Hey, Juicy!” Trev said, keeping his tone light. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh! Hello, Trev.” Juicy grinned. “I am neutralizing the listening devices that have been hidden inside these outlets.” He looked around suspiciously. “They’re always listening, you know.”

“Yes, they are.” Trev nodded and eyed Jules, hoping to prompt him to agree.

“Yeah, them bastards,” Jules said with a little frown.

“But you know Boss Cold is a really powerful gangster, so I bet they already potatoed all these sockets.” Trev cleared his throat and gave Jules another meaningful look.

“Yup. Sure did.” Jules nodded. “Used them Yukon gold ones.”

Juicy held the potato as if he might throw it, his eyes narrowed. He perked up suddenly and said, “Oh! Yes. Yukon gold. Those are excellent.” He dropped the potato, leaving it with the bag and the knife. “I used to grow those when I lived in Idaho.”

“Uh-huh.” Trev nodded along. “So, uh, did you ever get that popcorn Jules promised you?”

“Ah, that’s right! I forgot about that.” Juicy let Trev lead him out of the den. “We were going to watch a movie. I said anything Clint Eastwood. But then Miss Rowena was asking me about where I’m from, what I do for a living, and I realized she might be one of them. And if she’s not, she was given those questions to ask me because they are listening.”

“And that’s why you have to rub potatoes everywhere?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Trev took a few turns to find his way back to the living room, wishing Jules would fuck off for two seconds so he could talk to Juicy. He was sure Cold knew Juicy or that Juicy’s presence here was not a surprise.

Brick greeted them with a wave. Jimmy had fallen asleep in his chair.

“Hey,” Brick said softly. “Was wondering what happened to you guys. You went for snacks and then poof.”

“Sorry. Ran into an old friend.” Trev patted Juicy’s shoulder. “Juicy, this is Brick. Brick, this is Juicy.”

“Brick is not a name,” Juicy said. “It’s a small block of dried clay.”

“That it is.”

Brick laughed. “It’s a nickname. My name is actually Cho, but my last name is Brixton. So, Brixton, Brick.”

“Plus, my baby boy is built like an absolute brick shithouse.” Jules lumbered over to sit with Brick on the couch, and he murmured something that was definitely filthy and not in English.

Brick grinned and replied in the same language. He laughed, adding, “That was very good. Gross, but very good.” He noticed Trev looking their way, and he said, “I’m half Korean. Remember how I said I’m a translator? So I speak German.”

“Really?” Trev blinked.

“No!” Brick laughed. “Korean.” He snuggled into Jules. “I’ve been teaching Jules. But he only wants to learn how to talk dirty.”