Page 69 of Cold Hard Cash

“I will fucking kill you! You motherfucking dick weasel! Don’t you ever fucking touch him!”

The patrons around the bar had scattered, screaming in alarm and trying to get out of the way. Jimmy was frozen, his heart racing so fast he couldn’t draw breath, feeling it skipping beats and jumping up into the back of his throat. He watched in horror as Rowena kept driving her foot into Vincenzo’s crotch, screaming like a banshee.

“You crazy fuckin’ bitch!” Gary shouted and grabbed around her shoulders, yanking her backwards. She tried to smash her drink into his head, but missed, roaring in frustration as she tried to wiggle away. Jimmy lurched forward to intervene, but he suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Wait, no, hereallycouldn’t breathe. Vincenzo had somehow managed to get back on his feet despite the beating his manhood had taken, dragging Jimmy into a tight headlock. Jimmy clawed desperately at his forearm, watching helplessly as Gary pulled Rowena’s hair and swung back to hit her.

His blow never landed, a pair of strong hands seizing Gary’s arm and snapping it at the wrist with a sickening crunch. Gary screamed, a quick strike to his throat sending him gasping and choking onto the floor.

Jimmy couldn’t even see who their rescuer was at first, the man moving too quick for him to make out and his vision getting fuzzy. Vincenzo was suddenly gone from behind him, howling in pain. Jimmy gasped, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath and holding his throat.

Rowena wrapped him up in a big hug, demanding breathlessly, “Fuck, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Are you?” Jimmy panted, his head spinning from all the adrenaline.

“Fine! What fucking assholes!” she growled, still holding Jimmy but turning her body enough so she could kick Gary in the face.

Jimmy saw Vincenzo bleeding from a busted nose, probably broken, curled up on the floor behind him. Giant bouncers arrived to drag him and Gary away, calming the crowd. Their rescuer was casually dusting himself off, turning around to flash them a wry smirk.

Mickey Tamerlane, the Gentleman assassin fresh out of prison.

“Well, that was fun,” the hitman crooned with a light chuckle. “Luchesis feelin’ mighty brave today, aren’t they?”

“Fuckin’ assholes,” Rowena muttered, cradling Jimmy protectively.

Jimmy stared dumbly at Tamerlane, mumbling, “I... wow. Uhm. That was... intense. Thank you.”

Tamerlane shrugged, his dark eyes locking with Jimmy’s. “You’re family. It’s what we do.”

Face heating up, Jimmy wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t know how he should feel about being an honorary member of the Gentlemen family; flattered, terrified? Both? He was dizzy and pulled away from Rowena, collapsing against the bar. All the alcohol was rushing up from his stomach, and he was instantly nauseous.

Rowena fussed over him, petting his hair and cooing, “Hey, are you okay?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Yeah, no. Pretty sure I’m gonna be sick.”

Tamerlane made a face, speaking quickly to Rowena. “Get him back to the limo. Some prick has probably called the cops by now. I’ll be right behind you.”

Rowena nodded, urging, “Come on, Jimmy.”

Every step was torture, and Jimmy’s stomach sloshed violently. He gasped, shaking his head in protest of the inevitable before promptly throwing up on the sidewalk. He groaned at the smell of liquor wafting back toward him.

“I don’t think I wanna be a mafia boyfriend anymore,” he whimpered.

“Oh, sure you do,” Rowena soothed, petting his back in soothing little circles.

Jimmy puked again, coughing and hacking. “Fuuuu-uck.”

“Okay,” Rowena said sweetly. “We’ll work on it, sweetie? Okay?”

Jimmy vomited one more time. “Yup. Okay.”

“Let’s go, sweetie.”

Chapter Fifteen

Crawling into the back of the limo with help from Rowena and Jerry, Jimmy stretched out across the backseat. He dropped his head in Rowena’s lap, swearing to himself that he would never drink again.

“Where are we going?” he asked numbly.