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“Yeah, a few weeks ago.” Curtis nodded to the meth lab. “Said he wanted to set up a side hustle, and that we’d get a piece of it.”
A few weeks ago was way before Nick got with Cheryl, Johnny must’ve been planning this on his own.
“And what about the shit that went down at Wicked?” Cobra asked.
“Same thing. Said all we had to do was break in and bust up some shit. Paid big for an easy fuckin’ job.”
Cobra nodded at Python and he stepped forward, uncapped the jug he held, and dripped some of the contents over the rotted wood floor.
Curtis craned his neck. “What the fuck is he doin’?”
Cobra jerked his thumb to the red container in Python’s grip. “That’s filled with gasoline. All he needs is one match and—poof.” Cobra popped his fists.
“Ahh, c’mon,” Curtis pleaded.
“Yeah, Python loves to light shit up.”
Python flashed an evil grin then poured out more gasoline. The fumes took over the small room making Curtis and the other Rats squirm in their chairs.
“Don’t do anything crazy.” Curtis jerked his chin to the back of the shack. “You know how fuckin’ flammable that shit is?”
“Yep.” Cobra grinned. “But I ain’t worried cause we’re not the ones tied to those chairs.”
Python sprinkled out more gasoline.
Curtis wrestled against the tape. “Tell him to stop with that shit.”
Nick stepped to Curtis. “How’d he make the payoff?”
“I went to his place after the job was done and he paid in full.”
“His place?” Didn’t make sense. Even Johnny wouldn’t be that stupid. “Out at Country Club Hills?”
“Fuck no. The Desert Apartments in North Vegas.”
“Off of Decatur?” Cobra interjected.
“Yeah, when I went there he was shacked up with some whore. Probably there now. Apartment 2B.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Cobra moved closer to Curtis and shoved his gun into the side of his neck. “But if we get over to the Desert Apartments and he ain’t there or I find out you’re bullshitting us, we’re gonna find you, and make sure you never lie to us again.”
“I ain’t lying to you.”
“Good.” Cobra shoved the gun into his waistband as Python pulled out a box of stick matches.
The Rat’s eyes widened. “What the fuck’s he doin’ now?” Curtis yelled.
“Lighting this rathole up.” Joker smirked at Cobra. “And people say I got no sense of humor.”
Cobra stared at Curtis. “When he lights that match this shithole is gonna be toast.
“I told you what you wanted to know.” Curtis and the other Rats struggled against the duct tape.
“But there’s still the issue of you being back in Vegas. Especially since a year ago I told you to get your sorry asses out of Nevada.”
“We’re not in Vegas.”
“But you are in Nevada,” Cobra said over his shoulder as he headed to the door with the Serpents and Nick.
