“No, no, no, hey,” Goldie soothed, hating to see Day so distraught. “Please calm down, baby. It’s okay. You didn’t mess up anything. It’s okay. Just try to calm down. I’m gonna figure this out.”
Goldie had to figure out how to get them out of this, and he wished to God that Alvarez would understand that something was wrong. He hoped Alvarez would try to call him and get suspicious that Goldie didn’t answer. Maybe Alvarez would immediately recognize Jack or Lin from the descriptions he gave them and know Goldie was in trouble.
Fuck.
Something.
Anything.
Day’s cries quieted, and he turned his head to bury his face in the side of the armchair. He seemed to be trying to muffle his ears, but it didn’t appear to be working. He was getting frantic again, writhing against the ropes holding him in place, and his cries rose to an angry sob.
Lionel cleared his throat loudly.
“The fuck do you want?” Goldie demanded sharply, trying to keep his attention on Lionel and ignoring the gross corpse. He had to raise his voice to be heard over Day.
“I want to know what happened to my money,” Lionel replied firmly. “We were unable to recover any from the rescue, and we already checked your apartment. We know it’s not there.”
Goldie’s stomach clenched, and he was worried for Purrcy and Twinkle.
Fuck, he hoped they were okay, but he was terrified to ask.
If these assholes weren’t going to mention the cats, he decided it was better not to say anything and hope they’d hidden themselves under the bed and stayed safe.
“So,” Lionel said, “you tell us where my money is or I leave you both here to rot with our new friend.” He looked to Day. “Your father, was it? He was so nicely tucked into bed up there, I almost hated to move him.”
Day’s head snapped up, and he glared at Lionel with wide, wild eyes.
Lionel pressed the heel of his shoe against the corpse’s wrist, putting enough weight down to snap the delicate bone.
“Don’t touch him,” Day warned. “Don’t you fuckingdare. Don’t you fuckin’ touch him!”
“How about you tell me where the money is, and I make your deaths quick, hmm?” Lionel kept pressing forward. “It doesn’t have to be messy, you know. It can be quite clean.” The bone snapped.
Day roared, standing up with the chair still tied to him and then charging at Lionel.
Lionel quickly stumbled out of the way, and Day crashed right into Jack. They went down, chair and all, and Jack screamed.
“Ah! Get him off me! He’s fuckin’ biting me!” Jack cried.
“Oh, fuck!” Lin couldn’t lift Day and the chair together, and he had to undo the ropes. Once the ropes were undone, he pushed the chair out of the way.
Goldie’s heart was pounding frantically, adrenaline making his muscles light and springy, and he watched intently.
He’d seen what Day could do.
It horrified him, yes, but right now they could use a little horror of their own.
He waited, holding his breath and tensing, expecting that Day was going to fight back and that something magical would happen—like the ceiling collapsing and crushing Lionel or the floor giving way and sending Lin to his death. Hell, he’d take a sudden pulmonary embolism or a heart attack, anything to take these men out so he and Day could escape.
Goldie wanted to believe that Day wasn’t just crazy and that he was actually blessed by God, and he found himself praying for a miracle to take place before his very eyes.
But no…
Shit.
Nothing happened.
Nothing fucking good anyway.
