Vincent shakes his head, as though he’s disappointed. “Let’s just start with some time off. Figure out what you’re going to do to regain some discipline.”

“Time off isn’t good. I work.”

“Not up for discussion.”

The guy on the floor lets out a painful moan, and we both turn toward him. Vincent looks back at me, a dark eyebrow raised. He won’t let it go.

The breath I was holding slowly comes out through my nose. “Yeah. All right.”

“Help me drag him upstairs.”

“Before we go up, I think you should hit me.” The words leave my mouth, and I can only pray this works.

“What the fuck?”

“When the doctor comes up, we’ll say he got aggressive with me.”

“I’m not hitting you.”

“Why not? We spar all the time. But you’ve gotta punch me hard. Real hard. Just not my nose ’cause, you know, it’s nice.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s one of Vincent’s tells that he isn’t completely opposed to an idea. “You’re a sick fuck. Come up with another story. How about we say we found him—”

“Nah. This is the easiest story. Come on, Vince. Time is ticking. And the good doctor you hired needs a decent and believable story.”

I tried telling him that we needed a shady doctor on our team, but he refused, insisting we keep the entire operation kosher from the ground up. This means that, if any shit goes down that isn’t legal, he and I are the only ones privy to it.

He shakes his head as he rolls up his sleeves. Vincent’s tough as fuck. I know he tries to stay clean, but the man has done so much bad shit in his life that it’s not that difficult for him to handle darkness when he has to. He’s been there and done it all. The perfect man to hurt me without any emotional strings attached. After what I just did, I know I deserve this beating.

He rears back and smashes his huge fist against my face once, twice. I see stars, and in my gut, I know that justice has been served. I keep my hands balled into fists at my sides because I need to bring my head back to focus. With the pulse of pain comes a twisted kind of relief, as though I’ve paid my price for fucking up. I know it’s crazy to feel good after getting punched, but … I do.

Laughter hits me.

“You’re wacked.” He chuckles, shaking his dark head from side to side. “Now, let’s get this idiot upstairs.”

My face pulses with bruises to come as we drag the limp body onto the emergency staircase. Neither of us blinks at the absurdity of this moment. We’re each gripping a chunky white arm as we trek up to a small room on the sixth floor, permanently reserved for situations such as this. The top of his brown loafers drags against the concrete steps; man’s a dead weight. On the list of horrible shit Vincent and I have done, this doesn’t even rank. Finally dropping him in the small living area of the room like a beaten doll, we pound fists. If this isn’t brotherhood, I’m not sure what is.