by K. L. Hiers
“My fuckin’ pleasure,” Jules grunted, grabbing Charlie with his meaty paws and lifting him up.
“Oh, my! This, this is hardly dignified!” Charlie squeaked, kicking uselessly as Jules began to carry him outside.
Jimmy ignored all the commotion and turned his full attention back to Holliford. “Okay, please, Mr. Holliford. If you could please tell me about what happened with Marco Luchesi.”
“Oh, sure! He was always real handsy, real nasty. He really liked pushing people around and if you were a man, well, he had certain things he liked you to do for him. And if you didn’t want to, he would make you do it. Real bummer of a human.” Holliford frowned suddenly, looking down at the floor. “Huh, did you guys drop something?”
Jimmy followed Holliford’s eyes and found a small canister rolling by them. “Huh, it kind of looks like—”
There was a blinding flash, and Jimmy’s ears were instantly ringing. He wasn’t able to process any sound except the shrill tone invading his ears. He started to fall, completely disoriented. Maury caught his arm and screamed something, but Jimmy couldn’t hear him.
There were men in full SWAT regalia coming in from all sides, Jimmy gasping as one of the men grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. He could feel handcuffs being slapped on his wrists, and he watched Maury suffer the same fate.
He saw the men take Holliford, but he couldn’t see Jules or Charlie. Jerry was next, spitting and kicking wildly as he was put in handcuffs and dragged outside. Jimmy was certain he was going to throw up. He groaned miserably as two of the officers grabbed his arms and took him out after Jerry.
Jimmy was stunned by the sight of several black vans and flashing blue lights as they emerged, grunting as he was shoved rudely into the back of an unmarked sedan. Maury was pushed in beside him and squished him into the window.
He saw a man on a radio with a blue windbreaker. When the man turned around, he could see DEA was printed across the back of his coat. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?” Maury shouted.
“DEA!” Jimmy shouted back, his ears still ringing incessantly. The limo was still here, but Jimmy saw no sign of Jules or Charlie. His stomach began to turn with dread. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Charlie showed up like this, and he hoped that Jules was okay.
“What?” Maury repeated, obviously still unable to hear anything.
Jimmy shook his head, giving up on any form of verbal communication for now. He picked up fairly quickly that they were being taken downtown to the police station judging by the streets they passed. He pressed his face into the glass, sighing grumpily to himself.
So much for helping Rod. Instead of finding a great witness, he’d gotten himself picked up in a damn DEA raid.
At the station, he and Maury were separated. His hearing had mostly returned, but he knew he was probably still speaking at an abnormal volume as he demanded, “I want my lawyer and I want her now. You haven’t read me any Miranda Rights, so if I’m not under arrest, you’d better—”
“Pipe down, pipsqueak,” one of the DEA officers said, dragging Jimmy toward the interrogation rooms. “Got somebody that wants to have a little chat with you.”
Jimmy found himself shoved down into a chair and the door slammed shut. It felt like hours had passed, but there was no clock so he couldn’t actually be sure what time it was.
The door opened, and a man with a strong jaw and an expensive suit strolled in. The door closed behind him and left the two of them alone.
“Hello, Mr. Poe,” the man said with a cool smile as he sat down across from Jimmy. “I’m Stephen Blalock, district attorney for Strassen Springs.”
Jimmy’s heart stopped. “You’re the prosecutor for Rod’s case.”
“Yes, I am,” he said, the cool smile never faltering. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Jimmy said immediately, and he sat up straighter.
“First of all,” Blalock began politely, “I want to apologize for the way you’ve been treated—”
“Unless I’m under arrest, I’d like to leave,” Jimmy said firmly.
“The DEA has been working on shutting down Mr. Holliford’s operation for some time now,” Blalock went on as if Jimmy hadn’t said a word. “He’s one of the largest manufacturers of meth on the east coast. They let local authorities know about the raid as a courtesy, but I don’t think anyone ever expected that you’d be there.”
Jimmy stayed silent.
“It’s interesting,” Blalock mused, “the husband of the most notorious criminal in the city being caught in a drug raid? Tell me, Mr. Poe: have you had a drug problem long? Are you seeking help? Does Mr. Legrand know?”
Jimmy resisted the bait and again, said nothing.
“Your husband is in some very serious trouble, you know,” Blalock said, his face a mask of concern now. “What if you could help him?”
“That’s what I was trying to do,” Jimmy mumbled.
“Oh? Why don’t you tell me more about that?”
“No.”
“Mr. Poe, I’m sure you know that what your husband is doing won’t work,” Blalock said. “He can kill all the witnesses he wants to, but he cannot destroy the evidence—”
“Rod didn’t kill anyone!” Jimmy barked, hating that he was losing his temper so quickly.
“Right,” Blalock said quickly. “Let me rephrase. Your husband can drive as many people to suicide and instigate all the deadly riots—”
“I’m leaving,” Jimmy snarled and leapt up to his feet. “Get these handcuffs off of me and let me leave or arrest me.”
“I’d like to make a deal with you, Mr. Poe.” Blalock smiled sweetly. “One that I think would greatly benefit you and your husband.”
“I’ve had enough deals to last a lifetime,” Jimmy scoffed, and he was unable to resist a smirk. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“But Mr. Poe, your husband is facing life in prison. I can help—”
The door swung open and the man himself, Boss Cold, swept into the room. He was dressed to the nines, spats on his feet and death in his eyes. He took a deliberate step toward Blalock, and the man bolted right out of his seat.
Blalock plastered himself against the wall as if Cold might actually hit him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! We’re just holding him, that’s all! The DEA is holding everyone that was picked up!”
Cold scowled in disgust, looking over Blalock as if he were a lowly bug that he could squash without a second thought. He never moved beyond Jimmy’s chair, and his strong hand found the back of Jimmy’s neck. “Are you all right, Jimmy?”
“I’m fine,” Jimmy panted haggardly. He was unable to slow the pulsing of his heart or the flow of blood to other parts of his body to see Cold being so cocky. “What, what are you doing here?”
“Taking you home,” Cold said, his icy gaze still fixated on Blalock.
“Y-you’re supposed to be on house arrest,” Blalock managed to stammer.
“As per the terms of my bail, I’m allowed to leave with court approval,” Cold replied smoothly. “And wouldn’t you know it? Judge Del Rio was more than happy to acquiesce to my request.”
“When she heard what happened to Mr. Poe here, she couldn’t sign the order fast enough. You’ll be hearing from my office very soon, Mr. Blalock,” Christine Beccali’s equally cool voice called out, stepping in behind Cold. “Holding my client against his will? Harassment?”
“Trying to question me after I requested counsel?” Jimmy grumbled sourly.
“Mr. Poe and I were just having a friendly conversation while we worked out the exact nature of the incident,” Blalock said with a forced smile. He straightened himself up and tried to regain his composure. “Clearly, there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Clearly,” Cold echoed, swiftly removing Jimmy’s handcuffs. He threw them on the table, took Jimmy’s arm, and strolled right out of the room. Christine followed behind them, and it was so quiet that Jimmy could hear every
click of her heels.
No one tried to stop them. Every man and woman in that building could only stare as they watched Boss Cold, Roderick Legrand, take what was his and walk out of the police station like he owned every inch of it.
Fuck, Jimmy was so hard.
Outside, Cold opened the door of a slick black sedan and ushered him into the passenger seat. He looked back to Christine, asking her, “The others?”
“Jules didn’t get picked up,” Christine replied briskly. “Jerry will be released soon, and Maury might be facing an assault charge. He punched one of the DEA guys.”
“Make it go away.”
“You got it,” Christine said, reaching for her phone.
Cold got behind the wheel and began to drive off, tires squealing as he left the police station behind. He was staring straight ahead, focused on the road, but one of his hands moved to rest on Jimmy’s thigh. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine,” Jimmy insisted. “I just wanna go home. Look, I need to talk to you about Charlie.”
“What is it?”
“Maybe I’m being crazy,” Jimmy began carefully, “but I’m starting to think he’s—”
A black van suddenly slammed into the driver’s side of the car, glass shattering as they tipped over from the force of the collision. The car rocked and swayed on its roof, and the sound of horns blaring was the last thing Jimmy heard before he lost consciousness.
Chapter Eight
When Jimmy woke up, he was lying in a hospital bed. There was an IV in his arm, a pulse oximeter on his finger, and in addition to aching all over, he had the strangest feeling of déjà vu.
This wasn’t the first time in recent memory that he’d woken up in a hospital, but it was the first time that he found Cold sitting beside him keeping vigil.
“Rod,” he sighed, grinning when he saw Cold’s head snap up abruptly.
“Jimmy.” Cold took Jimmy’s hand and squeezed it hard. “Are you okay?”
“Little woozy, sore,” Jimmy replied, frowning when he saw stitches lining the left side of Cold’s temple and back into his hair. “What about you? Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
Cold glanced to the open door and motioned with his head for Jimmy to follow his gaze.
There were two police officers hanging out right outside speaking with Detective Duplin.
“Talk later?” Jimmy asked earnestly.
“Yes.”
Jimmy didn’t know how informative that promised talk would be, but it was better than nothing. He had no idea who had run into them or why, but he was grateful that they were both all right.
“How are you feeling?” Cold gave Jimmy’s hand another squeeze.
“Like I got hit by a truck,” Jimmy laughed.
“Van, actually,” Cold corrected with a small smirk.
“Whatever,” Jimmy snorted. “Is everybody okay? Maury? Jerry?”
“The charges were dropped against Maury in exchange for not filing suit against the SSPD,” Cold explained. “Jerry was released and told me that Jules and Charlie are safe as well.”
Charlie.
Hearing that name made Jimmy scowl. “Charlie. I need to talk to you about Charlie.”
“Not now.”
Sighing haggardly, Jimmy made a face. He decided to change the subject to something much more enjoyable, teasing, “You know, the badass way you came busting into the police station was pretty hot.”
“Oh?” Cold tilted his head. “Was it now?”
“Yeah. Was actually getting hard. Up until the whole car wreck thing. But yeah, watching you come in like that and just take me away... wow.”
Cold’s expression darkened, a familiar purr enhancing his voice as he asked, “You liked that, did you?”
“I did,” Jimmy confessed, feeling his cheeks starting to heat up. “You stormed right in, made that jerk Blalock about piss his damn pants. You were amazing.”
“Mmm.” Cold licked his lips. “Go on.”
“You weren’t going to let anything stand in your way,” Jimmy said breathlessly as he laced their fingers together. He could hear his pulse increasing over the machine. “You came to take back what’s yours...”
“Yes,” Cold said, hungrily scanning over Jimmy’s body. “And you’re mine, Mr. Poe.”
Jimmy didn’t think it was possible to be sexy in a hospital gown, but the delicious way Cold was staring at him made him feel incredibly hot. He took a deep breath. “Yours.”
“Knock knock,” Duplin piped up, rapping his knuckles against the door as he walked in.
Cold’s expression hardened, and he glared at Duplin for interrupting.
Duplin ignored the look and offered a strained smile to Jimmy. “Hey, Jimmy. How are you?”
“You know, feel like I got hit by a van, and all that,” Jimmy replied, silently cursing his half-hard dick. He tried to sit up a little straighter and winced when his back strongly disagreed. “So. What happened?”
“There were two men in the van that hit you,” Duplin said grimly. “Eyewitness claims they fled the scene and security footage from an ATM confirms it.”
“Hit and run?”
“Emphasis on the hit,” Duplin said. “We’ve IDed one of the men as Gary Luchesi.”
Jimmy’s pulse began to race again. Gary was one of the men who had attacked him and Rowena last year when they were out at a club together.
“It was sloppy, but we believe they were trying to kill Legrand,” Duplin continued. “Maybe they saw you guys leaving the station and decided to take a chance, who knows. We’re looking for them now.”
“Christ,” Jimmy mumbled, looking worriedly to Cold. “I thought, I thought the Luchesis were all gone!”
“Not quite.” Cold glanced warily at Duplin.
“Look.” Duplin dropped his voice down. “Ever since we found Marco’s body last month, they’ve been popping back up in Strassen Springs again. The heads of the family, those two brothers? Cristian and Luigi? They’re still in Perry City as far as we know.”
“As far as you know,” Cold echoed.
“Legrand, if you know something...”
“I know that this is not over,” Cold said, “and the best thing for you to do, Detective, is to stay out of my way.”
“I still have a job to do.”
“And I still have all those lovely tampered case files. Thinking about having one of them framed, and I’ll hang it in my living room.”
“For fuck’s sake, Legrand,” Duplin hissed angrily. “You can’t keep blackmailing me forever.”
“Oh, but I think I can.” Cold flashed an icy smile. “Unless you’d like your own little trip to Westchester, that is. I’m sure Tamerlane would love to see you. His beau is still pretty sore with you.”
Jimmy gulped anxiously, his stomach twisting up with a wicked mix of fear and excitement. It wasn’t fair for Cold to be so attractive when he was being a ruthless bastard.
“Fine,” Duplin snapped dismissively. “If they try again, don’t expect me or the SSPD to cooperate.”
“I expect nothing from you,” Cold said dryly. “This way, I’m never disappointed.”
“Jimmy,” Duplin said, looking to him with sympathy, “take care of yourself.”
“Goodbye, Augustus,” Jimmy said, waving farewell. He watched Duplin leave and shut the door behind him.
Duplin spoke to the other officers, and then they all left.
Jimmy melted down into the bed, groaning loudly. “Fuck.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Cold soothed.
“Someone tried to kill you today,” Jimmy shot back. “I’d say there’s plenty to worry about.”
“Well, they did a very terrible job, didn’t they?” Cold smirked, bringing Jimmy’s hand up to his mouth. “Mm. We’re both safe.”
“For now,” Jimmy grumbled. “I really thought the Luchesis were done since you-know-who was killed by the cops.”
“Obviously, I didn’t kill enough
of them,” Cold said mysteriously and refused to speak any more about it.
The doctor came in to assess Jimmy, pronouncing him concussed but fit to return home. Cold brought Jimmy out personally in a wheelchair, and Jerry had the limo waiting for them outside. Jimmy was stiff as he crawled into the backseat, immediately snuggling against Cold’s side when he sat down beside him.
“Just wait until I get you home,” Cold promised. “I’ll take care of you.”
“And we can finally talk?” Jimmy pressed. Although Cold’s care was very intriguing, right now he was more concerned with why people were trying to kill him.
“Yes.” Cold didn’t say anything else. He wrapped his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders and cradled him close.
Jimmy allowed himself to relax in his lover’s embrace, and he was nearly asleep by the time they were pulling up to the front door of the mansion. Cold helped him out, easily sweeping him into his arms and beginning to carry him upstairs.
“But, Rod,” Jimmy protested, “you’re hurt.”
“Shush,” Cold said firmly, not stopping until he was upstairs and setting Jimmy down on their bathroom counter.
Jimmy gently touched the wounded side of Cold’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Cold carefully peeled Jimmy’s shirt over his head and began to reverently touch his chest. He moved onto his arms, checking over every inch of him as if to make sure he was all still there.
Jimmy could feel a bruise forming on his shoulder, likely from where the seat belt had caught him. Cold’s fingers were so very gentle that he felt no pain when he touched it, and he was melting beneath his considerate affections. He resisted the urge to give in so easily, looking deeply in Cold’s eyes as he pleaded, “Take off your clothes. Let me see you, too.”
A glimmer of hesitation passed over Cold’s face, but he nodded. He slid off his jacket, meticulously folding it before setting it down on the counter. He began to loosen his tie and smirked when Jimmy eagerly reached out to start unbuttoning his vest.
As Cold’s bare torso was revealed, Jimmy was gasping before he could stop himself. Cold’s left arm was a mess of purple bruises and stitches, and there were varying other colors promising more bruises to come. There was also a raw streak crossing his chest from his own close encounter with the seat belt.
