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“We going to leave the two girls here for the maids to find?” I ask the moment Jake stops puking and begins to gasp for air.

“That’s the plan,” Simon says. “We’ll give them a shot as well to make them a little happier. No need to ruin their lives completely because they made a bad choice in men.”

Strapping another two pieces of tape over Jake’s mouth, I hold my hand out for the needle Simon used on the girl. “Yeah, honestly, it’s not like they knew what kind of scum they really are.”

Shooting Jake up in the neck, I wait the few seconds it takes for it to slip through his veins before I start dragging him out of the room.

Simon snags Jake’s underwear off the floor before stopping me.

He spits out quietly, “You owe me for this.”

Kneeling down, we both help Jake get into his white, skid-marked briefs.

“We’ll babysit two Saturdays,” I offer.

“Deal,” Simon says. “If Meredith doesn’t murder me while I sleep first.”

“Brother,” I say with a laugh, “I’ll tell you a secret if you promise me you’ll try it.”

“What is it?” Simon asks as we stand.

He moves over to grab ahold of Terry, who’s slowly slumping down the wall.

“Frank’s Neapolitan Ice Cream,” I say and adjust the shoulder strap for my rifle.

“What?” Simon asks, confused.

“Get a half-gallon. Next time Meredith isn’t in a good mood, give her a bowl. Trust me.”

“Why in the world would I want to give her that? I have no doubt it’s full of chem—”

“Simon,” I interrupt him. “Trust me. Once she’s had a bowl, ration that shit out when you feel her getting pissed off. Beth? It’s like I’m her dealer now.”

Chuckling, Simon tugs Terry along to the door. “I suppose at this point anything might help with her murderous glares. Did you know you can breathe too loudly when you’re watching television?”

“You ever thought Meredith’s fart could feel like a hug of death?” I ask back. “Like it wrapped around you so tight you felt it burn your lungs?”

A loud snicker comes from behind Simon’s mask, and right in this moment I feel that thread of bonding between us cement permanently. I don’t know why it’s taken us this long to become true brothers, but I think I dig it.

“Ready?” Simon asks as we prepare to move through the door leading to the hallway.

Peeking my head outside, I wink at Mateo, who nods back. He’s cool as a cucumber as he motions for us to follow.

Moving back through the hallway is a lot different than the first time. For one, we have two overweight, pasty, drugged up fuckers being tugged along as they stumble side to side. The other is we’ve got not one but two different families coming out of their rooms.

“Back in your rooms,” Mateo shouts in a firm voice. “Get back in them now!”

There’s a terrified but thankfully muffled scream from one of the mothers as she yanks both of her young girls into their room.

Then there just has to be the one stupid fuck who doesn’t think he needs to be told what to do. Standing firm like some peacock with his stupid fucking socks and wearing sandals shit.

“Get back inside or you’ll need a new knee, asshole,” Mateo says in perfect English.

And I swear if I didn’t know better, I’d say there’s a Midwest drawl to his tone.

Where Mateo came from is going to be a good question for Simon later.

The peacock slowly backs into his room then slams the door. Yeah, he’s still gotta show us who’s boss, just like a stupid fucking child.

Reaching the glass door to the pool area, Mateo freezes up, and I can tell by his posture that something outside that door doesn’t make him happy.

“We’ve got families and sunbathers out there now,” Mateo says, his Spanish accent magically returning.

“Fuck,” I say. “Any pissed off gun carriers?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Not yet. Ready?”

Simon’s nod to me is all I need. “Yep, let’s do this.”

Mateo pushes through the door and holds it open for us as we shove our drugged dumbasses along.

Our feet are moving at what feels like a slug’s pace.

But there’s thirty seconds of peaceful bliss as children laugh and merrily scream, playing inside the pool.

Then some woman screams as we come into her peripheral. “Oh god!”

That’s all it takes before women and men are shouting in fear as they run for their children.

“Move,” I say, slinging Jake up on my shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

Simon does the same thing then moves up next to me.

I grunt, “Hey, at least yours doesn’t have shitstains leading the way.”

“We’ll babysit a Friday,” Simon grunts back.

Moving across the cement with the sun beating down on us, we thankfully make it to the glass doors leading us to the next hallway.

I hear a shit ton of movement behind me, but Mateo is already at the doors and watching our six.

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