Page 42 of Cold Hard Cash

“Rule number one. I’m the fuckin’ boss,” Cold hissed, his expression terrifyingly serene as he grabbed the knife Rowena had been using earlier to slice up lemons.

“No! No, please!” Corman begged as he writhed. “I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect!”

Jimmy couldn’t stop staring at the knife, his heart jumping up into his throat. This was wrong. He broke out into a sweat.

Jules’ face was a joyous leer as he helped Cold hold Corman’s hand.

“I’m the boss, and do you know what that means? It means you don’t touch what’s mine,” Cold spat viciously, lifting the knife over his head. The blade glittered in the light before it came down with a sickening thwack.

Corman screamed, and Jimmy felt strange.

His body was light, light as a feather, and he was floating. He wasn’t inside the mansion anymore. He was back at home. His family’s old home. He could see the knife hitting his mother in the chest over and over. He could see the blood.

Blood on the blade.

Bright red.

So much red.

The room began to spin, and the Man in the White Coat was there with the knife in his hand, laughing as Jimmy’s mother screamed for mercy. He couldn’t stop watching, and the Man in White’s face was a blank void.

He didn’t have a face.

Why didn’t he have a face?

The void melted away as he cackled, and everything went black.

“Jimmy? Jimmy!” It was Rowena’s voice calling to him as she cradled his face sweetly.

Jimmy stirred and groaned. “Wha…?”

A sharp slap across his cheek made him yelp.

“Aw, there. See?” Rowena cooed. “He’s fine!”

Jimmy opened his eyes and realized he was on the floor. He saw Rowena hovering over him and Cold crouched next to her. Cold’s brow was furrowed, and Jimmy could have sworn he looked concerned. It made his heart skip a beat as he waited for the room to stop spinning.

“Are you okay?” Rowena asked worriedly.

Jimmy looked around. “Is he… What happened? Where is everyone?”

“Corman left to go lick his booboos. Everybody else is out playing by the pool. You fainted, sweetie,” Rowena said, petting his hair. “No tummy for blood, huh?”

“I guess, um… No. Not really.” Jimmy groaned, struggling to sit up and look at Cold.

Cold was calmly poised as if nothing had happened, but there was a faint spray of blood spatter on his cheek that Jimmy couldn’t take his eyes off of.

Cold glanced at Rowena with a questioning frown.

She cleared her throat, tapping her own cheek. “Got a little somethin’ on you.”

Cold made a face and stood with a frustrated sigh. He took out his handkerchief, dabbing himself off. Everyone else had left the room except Jules, who was currently humming to himself as he wiped up blood from the bar.

Jimmy’s stomach twisted at the sight. “What… what did you do?”

“Oh, it was just a finger,” Rowena reassured Jimmy. “A pinkie!”

Jimmy was horrified, and his voice cracked as he said, “A finger? A fucking finger?”