We makesure the young man escapes the penthouse safely. He does, just as one of the guests catches sight of us.
“Hey, who the fuck are you?” he calls, sitting up from where he’s receiving a blow job from one of the exhausted sex workers. He shoves her aside and tucks away his dick before standing.
Smart man.
I glance up at Gaderel, and he gazes back at me. His face is impassive, but his fiery eyes gleam with pride.
He’s proud…of me.
Several other men in the room turn toward us, then quickly approach, drawing weapons and training them on us.
Gaderel and I lift our hands calmly in the air.
“How did you get in? What the fuck are you doing here?”
I rest my gaze on Bowtie, who’s still seated at the poker table. “Me? Oh, I just came to visit. I thought you’d be so happy to know that I ended up living after all.”
He narrows his eyes at me as he rises to his feet, but stays beside the table. “You look familiar.”
I lift a brow.
Then his face lights up, and he smirks. “From Shakers. Well. Don’t you have the luck of the devil?”
I glance over at Gaderel again. His mouth quirks, a tiny bit, and I know he’s trying not to laugh. I turn back to Bowtie. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Mind telling me how, exactly?” he asks, folding his arms over his chest. “After all, I watched Barry blow a hole in your chest the size of your face.”
Only my ears can detect the low snarl from Gaderel.
“Barry. Is that his name? I’ve only been thinking of him as Scarface this whole time,” I say. “Just like I think of you as Bowtie, because you were wearing one that night. And your brother, I think of him as Shades.” I feign a little gasp, bringing my fingertips to my lips. “I mean, I thought of him as Shades.”
Bowtie’s an observant one; that little comment doesn’t go over his head. “Adam, go check the bedroom,” he says to someone in a clipped tone, keeping his gaze on me. One of the men with a gun trained on us jogs toward the bedroom.
“If my brother has so much as a hangnail,” Bowtie says calmly, “I can assure you you’re not living through the next five minutes.”
One side of my mouth curves up.
Almost there. Three…two…
From the bedroom, we hear, “Oh shit! Oh my god!He’s dead, he’s dead!”
Bowtie’s calm demeanor instantly crumbles. An expression that’s equal parts rage, grief, disbelief, and horror screws up his features. His face turns tomato red.
“Kill them!” he screams.
The half a dozen men standing in front of us with guns all move to shoot.
Gaderel holds up a hand, palm facing them.
In perfect unison, each man’s eyes suddenly roll back in their heads and they collapse.
“What the fuck?” Bowtie shouts. “Adam! Adam! Get out here!”
“Adam can’t come to the phone right now,” I say placidly. “On account of his being dead, and all.”
“What did you do to my brother,” Bowtie screams. A huge vein in his neck bulges. “What the fuck did you do to him, you cunt? I’ll kill you!”
“I wish you would try,” I reply. “But why don’t you go have a look and see for yourself?”