Page 82 of Cold Hard Cash

“Oh, this is gonna be so good.”

Even Jules seemed to dig it, chuckling, “Can’t wait to see the Boss’ face. I still say you should pop out of a big cake, though.”

“No cake,” Dario groaned. “That’s for like, bachelor parties and cheesy strip clubs. This is gonna be classy, but you know, with some teeth.”

Jimmy beamed proudly, hoping Cold was going to enjoy it. They had worked so hard, and he was excited for Friday to get here. “Okay. So, you wanna run through it one more time?”

“From the top,” Dario agreed, fingers running over the keys of his piano again.

Jules’ phone went off, and he lumbered to his feet as he answered. “Talk.” He looked up at the stage, frowning as he listened. He didn’t seem to like what the person on the other line had to say. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

Jimmy quirked a brow, asking carefully, “Everything okay, Jules?”

“You two,” Jules barked, pointing at him and Dario, “stay put until I get back.”

Jimmy frowned, looking back worriedly at Dario.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Dario called to Jules.

“Stay the fuck put, I said!” he snapped, heading toward the front of the club. Two of the suited men went with him, guns already drawn.

Jimmy backed toward the piano, his heart thumping with dread. “What the crap is going on?”

“I have no idea,” Dario said, gulping audibly. He was up on his feet, worry creasing his brow. “But I have a bad feeling about this.”

Two gunshots rang out, making Jimmy jump. “Oh, fuck! What the fuck!”

The rest of the suited men bolted to the front of the club, more shots firing.

“Okay, time to go!” Dario grabbed Jimmy’s arm and started dragging him toward the back of the stage as more shots went off.

“But Jules said—!”

“Who do you think is probably being shot at right now?” Dario hissed, wincing at another round of gunfire. “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 toward a narrow hallway. It felt like his heart was climbing up into the back of his throat, 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 said. “We’ll go out through the back, and my car is parked right there.”

“Okay,” Jimmy said, trying 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 beginning to tighten, staring down the barrel of Vincenzo’s gun. He felt Dario’s hands grab his shoulders, leaning 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? He shook his head, stuttering, “I-I don’t have it! I gave it to Cold!”

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