Jimmy had no idea who Jules was trying to call, but no one was picking up. His heart sank down into his stomach, getting immediately chewed up by his churning guts. He grabbed his phone and tried to call Cold.
It went directly to voicemail, and Jimmy wanted to throw up. He kept calling, over and over, and there was no answer.
There was a sudden banging at the front door, so loud that the sound carried all the way back to the lounge where Jules and Jimmy were.
“Who the hell is that?” Jimmy demanded. “Where are the guards?”
“Time to go, Twig,” Jules said with a low grunt. “You got shoes?”
“What? Shoes? Upstairs—”
“Anything down here?” Jules demanded impatiently.
“I... I might have... my flip-flops might be by the pool?” Jimmy jerked as the knocking came again. He could hear men shouting; unsure what was going on, he backed away from the doorway.
Jules stood up, checking the guns at his sides and looking at Jimmy. “Go grab them. Right now.”
His legs numb with fear, Jimmy forced himself to hurry outside through the sliding glass doors and scramble around the poolside searching for his shoes. He didn’t see any flashing lights or hear any sirens outside, and he was certain that their unexpected company was most unwelcome.
Jimmy spied a pair of neon purple flip-flops underneath one of the lounge chairs, crouching down to retrieve them. He heard something go whizzing by his head and choked on his own breath when the glass top of the nearby table shattered.
Someone was shooting at him!
“Jules!” Jimmy screamed, stumbling clumsily and clawing at the concrete to get himself moving. He could hear more bullets pinging the ground behind him, next to him, then all around him.
Guns raised, Jules came flying outside and started firing back. It sounded like cannon fire compared to the silenced shots zipping by, and he roared, “House! Get in the fuckin’ house!”
Hands clamped over his ears, Jimmy bolted inside as fast as he could. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Jules rejoined Jimmy and grabbed his arm, marching toward the side of the house. “We’re gettin’ the fuck outta here.”
“Who the fuck is that!” Jimmy yelled, his ears ringing miserably. “Who the fuck is shooting at us!”
“No one good,” Jules snapped, leading Jimmy out into the garage. His El Camino was parked there next to a few of Cold’s cars, and he shoved Jimmy over to the passenger side. “Come on, get in!”
Jimmy flopped into the seat and shut his door. He hadn’t even put his flip-flops on, clutching them to his chest and panting hard. He yelped when Jules grabbed his head and shoved him down.
“Head! Seat! Right fuckin’ now!” Jules ordered, cranking the car and hitting the remote for the door. He didn’t even wait for it to come all the way up before he hit the gas and went flying through, the door scraping the top of the car with a loud screech.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jimmy yelled, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth when he heard several loud metallic dings hit the side of the car.
Jules had his window down, firing back with an angry snarl as he sped away from the mansion.
Jimmy heard the tires squealing when they hit the main road, clinging to his flip-flops and trying to breathe. He couldn’t remember ever being so terrified, and tears were streaming down his face. He was shaking all over, and his heart was pounding erratically. He thought of Cold’s firm voice urging him to take deep breaths, and he struggled to calm down.
“Come on,” Jules said gruffly. “Sit up. Dry up. Ain’t nobody followin’ us. You’re okay.”
“Who the fuck was that?” Jimmy asked shakily, flopping up against the seat. He wiped at his face, sniffing loudly. “Was it the Luchesis? What’s happening?”
“Listen to me and listen fucking good,” Jules growled as he sped toward downtown. “This is what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna take you to a diner, real shiny and public like. You’re gonna keep your little skinny ass there until me or one of the Gentlemen comes to get you.”
“Jules,” Jimmy pleaded, “tell me what’s going on.”
“Do you understand?” Jules snapped. “You, diner, do not move.”
“I, I understand,” Jimmy mumbled tearfully. He looked down at the flip-flops still cradled in his arms, and he suddenly couldn’t stop staring at his ring.
He was here. He was safe. He was alive.
