The Cunning (18+)

73

The silence was nauseating. Jase and Sam sat in the living room watching the clock. It was coming up to nine. A thick haze of smoke floated between them, the only sounds coming from the hissing of cigarettes and Jase's incessant foot-tapping. Sam had never seen him nervous, it leaked into him.

"Does Madison know she's going tonight?" Sam asked. Jase nodded, taking a long drag on his third cigarette in the past hour.

"I told her to pack some clothes."

Sam bobbed his head. He had no words of reassurance to offer and Ramon's order still camped in the back of his mind. His gut twisted.

"Are you okay?" he asked, wincing as the words left his mouth.

Jase looked at him through his lashes. Part of him wanted to clock Sam around the side of his head for such a stupid question. But then, he wasn't in the best mood with Sam after overhearing what Ramon had instructed and Sam not telling him.

"Remember when we first got involved in all this stuff, and Benny was going to have you bumped off because of you and Janine, and I vouched for you?" he asked.

Sam's brows furrowed, confused. "Of course I remember. I thought he was going to go for you next for speaking up."

Jase stared at Sam, his right-hand man in the business for six years and best friend for ten. He trusted Sam with his life, and had trusted Sam with his life on many occasions. He'd never done Jase wrong. Even when he'd started making choices that didn't necessarily benefit the house, Sam had stuck by him for the most part. Until he didn't. Though, Jase understood his reasoning.

"What made you think of that?" Sam asked. Jase shrugged, shaking his head.

"You're probably the only one that knows how not okay I am." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't going to last forever."

Sam's palms were sticky with sweat at the thought of all the possible outcomes of the evening. He didn't want to have to choose between Jase, and his and Janine's future, which was the black and white of it. Jase pulled the tin box out from under the armchair, setting it on the coffee table.

"You've got your gun, haven't you?" he asked. Sam nodded, patting his waist where his Glock 29 was tucked. Jase unlocked the box, took out the gun, and slotted in the magazine. He pulled the slider back and clicked the safety on before lifting his shirt and tucking it into his jeans.

"Where's the other one?" Sam asked, a shadow of uncertainty glancing over him.

"In my car," Jase replied, closing and locking the tin again, putting it back.

The minutes ticked past, the tension suffocating. Neither of them could recall any other situation that had aroused this much dread in their whole careers. They'd handled large amounts, money, girls, guns, and drugs, and not once had they been this disquieted.

At twenty-five past, there was a knock on the door. Jase stood up to answer-

"Jase," Sam stopped him. "If shit hits the fan, i've got your back." Jase considered this, nodded once and made his way to the door. His grip tightened on the handle when Adam looked up and smiled at him.

"Surprised you let this go on for as long as it did. Shame the damage is done, really," he jeered. Jase didn't blink, he'd seen this coming. He stepped to the side, inviting them in. Sam glared at Adam, not able to keep the same poker face. Not that Adam was fazed, he felt untouchable with Mitch by his side. Jase had given up and Adam had backed the winning team.

"Be quiet, Adam. Jase probably feels humiliated enough without you rubbing it in," Mitch playfully chastised.

Jase followed them into the living room, taking his seat. Mitch sat down on the sofa and Adam pulled out a chair at the table, sniffing at Sam, curling his lip.