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Trev was frozen in his seat.

Cold was dead.

That’s not how this was supposed to go.

He reached up to touch his cheek, grimacing when he felt something sticky.

Blood.

Trev stood to retreat and make sense of his spinning thoughts. He knew Cold and Jules had told him to stay, but that was before Cold got his brains splattered across the wall.

And the table.

And the chairs.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Trev backed away from the table, his heart pounding and his face numb.

Everyone else was so focused on getting Edgar out safely that they’d apparently forgotten about Trev, Jules included.

More gunshots rang out, Trev instinctively ducking as he whipped his head around in search of the source. It seemed to be coming from outside. More people screamed, more shots were fired, and Trev gritted his teeth.

He needed to get the fuck out of here.

He spared Cold a sympathetic glance and then hurried to the back of the restaurant. Whatever was about to go down, he wanted no part of it. His heart ached at the loss of Cold as much as it could, though the sting was sharper when he thought about Rowena and Jimmy finding out.

Shit.

Shit.

Cold had told him to stay at the table, but he could not have meant to hang out with his corpse while people were fucking shooting at each other.

He decided to follow after Edgar and Lawrence since they had the giant gaggle of security with them. That seemed safer as opposed to waltzing out front where all the shooting was going down.

He could leave the restaurant and double back to hitch a ride. Hell, he’d find that guy jacking off in his truck and offer to fucking blow him if he’d take him to Cold’s mansion. The only thing that mattered was getting the fuck out of here and back to Jupiter and Juicy.

Trev was fucking done with gangster bullshit for-fucking-ever.

No more murder, no more lies, no more stupid plots that ended in—oh, surprise!—more fucking murder.

What the fuck had Cold been thinking?

Some fucking genius.

Trev zipped through the swinging doors into the kitchen, dodging cowering staff members as he hurried toward the rear exit. He didn’t see any sign of Edgar or the security detail, but he couldn’t have been too far behind them.

He shoved open the door and found himself in an alley. The sound of a car peeling away no doubt signaled Edgar’s retreat and Trev groaned in frustration.

Yup.

Time to go bribe the masturbating guy.

He didn’t hear any new gunshots, but he still moved cautiously, all of his senses on high alert as adrenaline continued to buzz through his body. He had no way to call for help and nothing to defend himself with other than the stupid knife he’d stolen from the restaurant.

This was great.

Just fucking great.