Page 37 of Cold Hard Cash

“Hey, hey, hey!” Rowena shouted, stumbling as she came around the bar, struggling to sober up with a quickness. “What the fuck do you think you idiots are doing?”

Lorre jerked his head at Jimmy, snapping, “This is Augustus Duplin’s kid! Like, his adopted kid!”

“Oh, please. He is not,” Rowena groaned, but she blinked, staring curiously at Jimmy. There was doubt beginning to sneak in, her pretty lips curling into a frown. She looked hurt, asking him directly, “Are you?”

Jimmy’s eyes were wide with terror, trying to explain. “Yes, but fuck, look, we don’t ever talk, I ran away—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rowena demanded, clearly betrayed and upset.

“I kept trying!” Jimmy cried, frustrated and afraid. He yelped when Corman grabbed his collar, dropping his drink and wincing at the sound of shattering glass.

Corman pulled him roughly away from the fireplace and starting to drag him away. “Oh, I’ll take care of this little problem myself,” he promised, leering horribly at Jimmy.

Jimmy was scared, but he wasn’t going to go anywhere with Corman without a fight. He swung, trying to push him away, snapping, “Get the fuck off me!”

“Corman, let him go!” Rowena hissed, taking off one of her heels and rearing her arm back. “God fuckin’ help me, I will beat the brains out of your head with my fuckin’ Jimmy Choo if you don’t let him go!”

“Rowena, for fuck’s sake!” Lorre groaned. “That guy is a pig’s fuckin’ brat, probably came here to spy on us! You think it’s a coincidence that Duplin is all up Cold’s ass about Dickie, and now this guy just happens to show up?”

“I don’t care!” Rowena snarled, pointing her shoe at Lorre now. “Roddy said hands the fuck off, and I don’t see Roddy right now. Do you?”

“No, but—”

“But fuckin’ nothin’!” Rowena raged, her eyes snapping to Corman. “Get your nasty fuckin’ mitts off of him. We’ll let Roddy decide what to do. Until then, let him go.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Rowena,” Corman hissed dryly, and Jimmy tried to wiggle away again while he seemed distracted. Corman’s grip only tightened, suddenly crashing Jimmy’s face into his knee.

Jimmy collapsed to the floor, crying out in pain. His lip was split, and he could taste blood.

“You bastard!” Rowena seethed, flinging her shoe at Corman’s head. She missed by a mile and cursed loudly, reaching for her other heel.

“Easy now,” Corman chuckled, holding up his hands and easily batting away the other shoe as it came flying at his head. “Just a little tap. He’s fine.”

“You are such a fucking douche nozzle,” Rowena growled, dropping down to Jimmy’s side and wrapping her arms around him protectively. She glared up at Corman, snapping, “Ohhhh, Roddy is gonna fuck you up.”

“Over some cop’s kid? Please,” Corman sneered disgustedly. “Cold won’t fucking care, he’ll probably thank me!”

“And what exactly am I thanking you for?” Cold’s voice boomed suddenly, his eyes glittering with a fury Jimmy had never seen when he walked into the den with Jules and Tamerlane flanking either side of him.

Jules’ giant hands curled into fists, and Tamerlane had a gun drawn in a blink. They weren’t looking at Jimmy though, all of their wrath was aimed directly at Corman. Jimmy didn’t understand the reason for all the animosity, but it was very clear that no one was a fan of him.

Corman rolled his eyes, gesturing toward Jimmy as he said, “Your little escort here is not what he seems.”

“Cold, this kid is Augustus Duplin’s son,” Lorre snapped. “I knew I’d seen him before.”

“Same here,” Corman laughed. “Tell me, Jimmy. When’d ya start dying your hair? I kinda miss the blond.”

“What?” Jimmy touched his hair instinctively. He hadn’t been blond since middle school, and he couldn’t begin to imagine how any of these gangsters would know that.

“Tried finding him or Duplin’s daughter a year or so back,” Lorre snorted. “Looking for some payback for my brother. Couldn’t ever track ‘em down.”

Cold reached for Jimmy, his hands firm but gentle as he pulled him from Rowena’s arms and up to his feet. He cradled the back of Jimmy’s head, tilting his face toward him so he could get a better look at the damage.

Jimmy was shaking all over, his fingers curling tight around Cold’s wrist as his eyes filled with tears. This was it, Cold was going to kill him. He was going to tear him into pieces and feed him to the damn dogs outside.

“Are you all right?” Cold asked quietly. His rage appeared to be simmering for the moment, but his expression was stern. He was letting Jimmy hold his wrist without protest, his icy blue eyes peering at him intently.

“I’m o-okay,” Jimmy stammered in surprise. He didn’t want this to end, no, not like this. He had to plead his case, he had to fight, trying desperately to explain. “Please. Listen. Look, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I kept trying to tell you—”