“You think that matters now? How long ’til the cops raid the club? Call it hush money or compensation—call it whatever you want—but that stuff stays.” He gestured to one of the bikers. “Do it, Sean.” The biker reached for the cash, and Jason hit him so hard and fast he went down like a dropped rock. Darius reached for the weapon in his belt, but Jason moved in a blur. He caught the wrist, twisting it up and back before taking the pistol himself, and putting a bullet in Darius’s foot and a second in his knee. Darius fell screaming, and Jason pushed the barrel at the last biker’s face. “Gibby, anyone else downstairs?”

I pointed dumbly at my chest. I didn’t know he’d seen me.

“Gibby? Anyone else.”

“No. Uh. No one.”

“Go downstairs. Lock the door.”

“Um…”

“Go ahead. I won’t let you miss the good stuff.”

It was something Robert used to say. Do your homework, little brother. I won’t let you miss the good stuff. Stumbling from the room, I locked the door and ran back upstairs.

“We’re good?” Jason asked.

“It’s locked.”

Jason gestured with the gun. “On your knees.”

The third biker knelt, but did it slowly. “Look, man…”

Jason took the pistol from the biker’s belt, and tossed it on the bed. Then we heard the banging downstairs, someone pounding on the door. “Gibby, if you would.” He tipped his head at the window, so I peered out and down.

“Oh, man, I think it’s Dad.”

Jason pointed at the biker. “You. Keys.”

“What keys?”

“The van out back. Front pocket. Toss them to the kid.”

I caught the keys. On the floor and bleeding, Darius said, “I’ll kill you for this, French…”

“Shut up, Darius, before I put a third one in your head.”

“You’d best do it now. Pagans don’t forget or forgive. We’ll find you and we’ll fucking kill you.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jason pistol-whipped the kneeling biker; knocked him cold. “And then again, maybe not.”

Darius said, “Damn it, goddamn it…”

Jason ignored him. “Gibby, get the rest of the guns. Put them on the bed.” I did what he said. “Good. Grab those corners.” I pointed at the blanket, still numb. “It’s a lot to ask, I know. Gibby, look at me.” Jason raised his eyebrows, nodding once. “If Dad’s here, then other cops are coming. Understand? Gunshots. Men down. He’ll call it in.” As if to confirm, the pounding below us grew louder. “This is all I have in the world, little brother, what you see on that bed.”

“Shit, man…”

“Pick ’em up. Let’s go.”

He shoved the pistol into his belt, and I helped him drag guns and cash off the bed. A couple of dead men would have weighed less.

“Down the stairs. Out the back.”