The Paid Men and the Mafia Girls
CHAPTER 9: ENDLESS SUFFERING

Elsewhere, Jourrel had changed into Tristan's short-sighted outfit. One of his calves was bruised and even his color was now starting to turn a purplish blue.

He was sitting on the edge of the not-so-large bed. Tristan does have a private room there, usually used to rest when tired of work. Although not too broad, it was quite convenient for him.

"Tan! There's no bruising medicine?" shout Jourrel. Tristan was in the pantry brewing coffee.

"There! That's a P3K box decking the entrance!" sahut Tristan also shouted.

Jourrel stood up, his eyes immediately sweeping the room until he found a medicine box stuck on the wall. Strained walk grabbed it, then sit on the sofa and immediately apply anti-bruise ointment. Hope to ease her pain.

After flattening the ointment on the surface of his injured skin, Jourrel cupped both of his elbowing arms over his thighs. His eagle eyes did not blink even sharply highlighted. His mind was raging and his heart was grappling violently inside there.

"Okay, this time I admit your superiority. But next time, no mercy for you! Let's see, until when can you survive!" hiss Jourrel clenched both of his hands with a cold grin.

"Now, coffee." Tristan placed the glass in front of Jourrel. Strong robusta smoke gushed in Jourrel's pointed nose.

"Thanks!" he grabbed the cup and swiped it a little.

Tristan sat next to Jourrel. His legs crossed over his thighs, staring at his best friend full of probing. "Lu why, Jhon? Dozens of years bring that motorbike has never been scratched at all!"

The man's eyes glared when he saw the wound on Jourrel's leg. "Maha!" Tristan's laughter squealed as she patted Jourrel on the shoulder. "I am ashamed. You fell?" he continued to sneer with satisfaction.

"Shan anyway! Apes day is not on the calendar. You know, the basic girl who bars is not kelulungan," said Jourrel leaning his back. He unknowingly slipped himself without being urged.

"Wait on! Waitaminute! A chick? A bar-bar? So you fell for a girl? Ahaha!" Tristan was more than happy to laugh at him.

Jourrel squinted his sharp eyes. Inwardly clucked in annoyance at the looseness of speech. I have been trying so hard to hold him back.

"Ck! It's been diem! Or I bolt also your mouth! When did it finish? I will not be able to work!" Jourrel snorted bitterly while diverting the conversation. He does not want his disgrace exposed and used as a weapon of the friend to bully him.

"One week!" cetus Tristan let out a long breath.

"Last long! It could be anything!" jolt Jourrel frowned.

"Heh, you think you're breaking the wall a day so? Good thing if I don't kick you until Pluto!" the Tristan rebuttal.

"Well, what's my grab driver?!" reject Tristan.

Jourrel stood up and took his jacket, grabbed something from his pocket. Small objects like the remote are black. "Don't cry if tomorrow this place is flat on the ground!" he threatened to move that thing.

Tristan swallowed his saliva already sucked. He knew that his best friend liked to collect dangerous items. Yeah, Tristan thinks Jourrel's just a bunch of sharp weapons. Don't know if it's actually used to kill every shot.

"Basic psychopath!" swearing Tristan with an exploding chest. Afraid that Jourrel would completely destroy his efforts.

Jourrel turned around, chuckling in amusement. Don't know, if Jourrel doesn't have any kind of bomb. Because for a legal purchase, it must meet complex requirements.

Of course he couldn't fulfill it. Whereas if buying illegal, too drain the contents of the bag. Therefore, he only had a few types of firearms. All he held was a miniature.

"Well, that's my new chum!" jourrel put his arm around Tristan's shoulder, which just grunted.

Just a few minutes they arrive at the yard of the house that is not too broad, even looks very simple. The only home in the place. Far from urban and also densely populated settlements.

"Thanks, Bro. The pay is now tomorrow if the bike is ready!" jourrel said before getting off Tristan's car.

"Hmmm!" retali Tristan muttered softly.

He immediately turned back to his house. Her mood had already been shapelessly shattered, squeezed by her own best friend.

Jourrel settles like a burglar in his own house. His feet rested very slowly and carefully towards his room which was located in the back.

The man held his breath while prying at the window, and laboriously passed through it. Then slowly close it back.

"Pramps! Bugh! Bugh!"

A pot landed on Jourrel's head, then hit his burly back in a row.

Connect~

Since meeting Cheryl...Jourrel's suffering is endless, 😆😆😆 wants to be messianic but Jourrel 🙏😂