Page 43 of Cold Hard Cash

Cold scoffed at Jimmy’s reaction and stalked toward the bar to fix himself a drink. He poured a second for Jules, mumbling, “Should have taken his hand.”

“There’s still time,” Jules offered with a grin, joining him in a toast.

“Oh my God.” Jimmy gasped, revulsion rising up to meet the bile dancing in the back of his mouth.

Rowena frowned sympathetically. “Sweetie. Corman is bold, and he’s not exactly the most loyal Gentleman. This was a long time coming. You see, he was the last one to join, and he only did when it was clear Roddy was gonna win. Plus, he—”

“Rowena,” Cold warned. “I think that’s enough story time.”

“Oh yeah?” Rowena jumped up, whirling around to face her brother. “Hey! How about you tell me a little story? Like why the fuck didn’t you tell me what you were up to!”

“I knew,” Jules said with a shrug, chewing on a lemon rind.

“Not helping!” Rowena screamed.

“It was business,” Cold said icily. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“And that’s why you let me take him out shopping? Let me think it was cool to hang out with him? Because it’s just business?” Rowena was completely fearless as she got right in Cold’s face. “What do you really want with Jimmy?”

“We have an arrangement,” Cold replied coolly, not moved by Rowena’s rage.

Rowena scoffed angrily, searching his face for some sort of clue.

“Mr. Poe and I are going to have a little chat about it right now,” Cold said, ignoring Jules’ loud chuckle and approaching Jimmy. He offered his hand and helped Jimmy stand on unsteady feet.

Jimmy wobbled, but his pulse fluttered at the contact. His stomach bubbled with nervous energy again. He had no idea what to expect from Cold now.

Glancing over his shoulder at his sister, Cold said, “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

“Roddy,” Rowena ground out, “we’re not done talking about this.”

“Good night, Jules!” Cold called out, not paying her any mind and curling his arm possessively around Jimmy’s waist as they made to leave.

“Night night! Night, Twig!” Jules replied cheerfully, laughing as Rowena fell into an enraged bout of cursing that would make a sailor blush.

One of her shoes came flying by and then clattered on the floor as she shouted after them, “Not done!”

“Good night, sweet sister!” Cold called back, leaving her screaming in rage as he guided Jimmy toward a large staircase. He looked very pleased with himself and chuckled under his breath.

Jimmy still felt a little dizzy but strikingly sober as Cold led him upstairs. He tried to push the images of the blood out of his mind, focusing on the sound of his own labored breathing to distract from it. Looking ahead, he struggled to pay attention to where Cold was taking him.

They were upstairs and walking into a massive foyer with an open seating area. It was filled with dozens of bags that Jimmy recognized as the loot from his shopping spree with Rowena.

Past the foyer was a den, but there were personal touches of the man who lived here. The furniture was worn and comfortable, ratty old things that most people would have left out on a curb. There was a large record player with an impressive vinyl collection. A few posters and photographs were hung on the walls, but it was too dark for Jimmy to make out much of them.

Deeper still they went through a set of thick wooden doors, Jimmy now standing within the inner sanctum of Boss Cold’s master bedroom. The bed was a massive beast with four posts that reached the ceiling and plush blankets and pillows all perfectly arranged. The furniture in here was more ornate and warm, perhaps antique, though all the colors were still dark shades of blue and brown.

Jimmy fidgeted, looking around anxiously as Cold turned on a small lamp at the bedside.

“How long have you known?” Jimmy asked before even thinking, the words spilling out like a glass of red wine on white carpet. He couldn’t take them back now. He had to know, he had to figure out the depth of the mess he had gotten himself into. “How long?”

Cold pursed his lips but didn’t answer, gesturing for Jimmy to sit down on a small chaise at the foot of the bed.

“Before or after we had sex?” Jimmy spat, plopping down on the chaise.

“Before,” Cold replied after a long pause.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”