Renfrew grins viciously. “You can have your kids as long as I get the cunt.”
“Done!” Hangman says.
“Fuck off, you bastard!” I say, not sure who I’m yelling at.
“She’s not staying,” Eight says to Renfrew in a dead voice. “Get us the kids now or I’ll fuckin’ rip your balls off and feed them to you.”
Joker sighs. “Why does everything have to be a fucking shitshow?” He turns to Renfrew. “Most of your crew’s fucked off or too fucked up to have your back so let’s not pretend you’re holding the aces.” He flicks his head at me. “You want this pain in the ass, pick her up on her own.”
Hangman glares at Joker. “I say she stays, fuckwit.”
“I’m not staying,” I say.
“She’s not staying,” Eight says.
Joker changes the subject as he glares at Renfrew. “This isn’t a negotiation, fucker.”
Hangman picks up the thread. “Joker’s fuckin’ right. No one’s got your back, you ain’t got a say so in what happens.”
Renfrew pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Take the bitch home with you. Lola, Benji, get the fuckin’ brats! I’m tired of this shit.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Oscar
The four of us are in a kind of nook, out of sight so we can’t see the rest of the warehouse. It’s kind of dark, but we have desk lamps directed at our arms so Benji and Lola can focus. It’s been such a long night that I feel sleepy even though I’m being mutilated by a cray-cray.
“It hurts,” Henri says to me like it’s my fault.
I jerk out of my stupor. “Of course it hurts! They’re sticking needles in you.”
Benji raises his head. “You two shut up, please. I can’t concentrate.”
“He’ll make a mess,” Lola confirms, her eyes glued to Henri’s arm. “Me, on the other hand, I don’t get distracted easily.”
“That’s bullshit,” Benji mutters as he takes a piece of Lola’s T-shirt and swipes at my arm.
“Did you disinfect it?” Henri asks him.
“Yeah, princess.” He shakes his head in disgust. “You two are total dweebs.”
“We’re not!” Henri protests. “It’s usual for people to take precautions doin’ stuff like this.”
Benji narrows his eyes. “Maybe in your world, but in my world, we don’t fucking need coddling.”
Does he not realize by now that he won’t win an argument with Henri?
“Sure you don’t.” Henri replies. “You’re too stu?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence, freak, or I’ll tattoo Loser on your forehead.” The needle digs into my arm hard enough to make me wince.
“Enough,” I bark. “Henri, shut up. Benji, stop trying to drill through to my bone.”
Henri isn’t impressed by my interruption. “You tell me to shut up one more time, I’m gonna punch you in your ugly face.”
“Ouch. I’m scared.” Apparently I don’t know when to shut up either.
“You should be since you’re too much of a sissie to hit me back.”
