Hard Earned Cash: A Dark Mafia Romance

by K. L. Hiers

  Cold’s roar broke off into a stuttered gasp, his hips jerking as he came, giving Jimmy every last drop as promised deep inside of him. He practically collapsed against Jimmy’s back and placed a hand on the seat to help hold himself up.

  “Rod,” Jimmy whined as Cold pulled out and left him empty. “Fuck... please, I wanna come, too...”

  Cold sat back and moved his fingers down to Jimmy’s ass, slipping them in as he sighed, “Come for me, Jimmy... God, can you feel how wet you are? You’re so fucking full of my cum...”

  Jimmy wiggled a hand underneath himself to grab his cock, moaning as the tips of Cold’s fingers played around the soft tissue of his hole, thrusting in and out lazily. He groaned sharply as Cold spread his legs wide and his hot mouth found his hole.

  “Yes,” Cold groaned, his tongue easily squeezing inside and fucking him in short thrusts. “All mine... so full of my cum, you’re totally mine... no one else will ever have you...”

  Whimpering desperately, Jimmy was unable to resist the heat that such possessive words created, spilling into his hand with a loud cry. He grinded down against the seat as he twitched, sobbing as Cold’s fingers continued to play around his wet hole. “No one... no one but you!”

  “Good boy,” Cold sighed, working Jimmy through it for several long moments before withdrawing his hand. He fixed his clothing and sat back down. After adjusting his tie, he looked as pristine as before save for his missing handkerchief.

  Jimmy was still bent over the seat, flushed and trying to catch his breath. Cold was petting his hair, and it would be so easy to fall asleep like this. “Mmm... Rod.”

  “Better get dressed,” Cold teased. “We’ll be home soon.”

  “Can’t move,” Jimmy protested.

  Cold playfully smacked Jimmy’s bare bottom. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Jimmy fussed but let Cold wipe him down and the seat beneath him. He helped Jimmy pull his pants and underwear back up, and Jimmy immediately snuggled against Cold’s side.

  Cold wrapped his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders and kissed his brow. “We’ll have a proper shower when we get home.”

  “And a nap,” Jimmy laughed. “Mm, maybe something to eat first.”

  “Oh?”

  “Worked up a bit of an appetite,” Jimmy said with a sly grin. “Definitely need to eat.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Cold promised.

  Jimmy enjoyed the rest of the ride cuddling with Cold, but his stomach lurched when they pulled up to the mansion.

  Charlie Swenson was waiting for them at the front door.

  Brow scrunching up with worry, Jimmy asked quietly, “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” Cold said, a sneer curling his lip, “but I am going to find out.” Once the limo came to a stop, Cold brushed by Jimmy to exit first.

  “We need to talk,” Charlie said sternly. “The plan’s changed.”

  “Hello, Mr. Eastwick. It’s nice to see you, too,” Cold drawled, offering his hand to help Jimmy step out next. “I assume your handlers don’t know you’re visiting today?”

  “No.”

  “Why don’t we have a drink, Mr. Eastwick?” Cold said, glancing to Jerry who was now flanking his side. As if on cue, Tamerlane and Lorre walked out of the house, wearing all too friendly faces as they surrounded Charlie.

  “It’s a little early, isn’t it?” Charlie said, unflinching even with killers breathing down his neck.

  “I insist,” Cold said curtly. He looked to Tamerlane, ordering, “Search him.”

  “You got it, Boss,” Tamerlane replied and began to roughly slap his hands over Charlie’s small frame. He was thorough, turning out every pocket and opening up Charlie’s shirt to inspect his chest.

  Lorre watched with a scowl, his hand resting over the gun at his hip. If he had any complaint about how Tamerlane was frisking Charlie, he kept it to himself.

  Tamerlane threw Charlie’s wallet on the ground, took out his cell phone, and handed it to Cold.

  Cold looked it over before tossing it over into the fountain. “Now, let’s go get that drink.” He took Jimmy’s arm and led him inside, murmuring quietly, “You may stay if you wish, but know that this conversation is not going to be pleasant.”

  “I’ll stay,” Jimmy said quietly. “If it’s too much, I can always leave.”

  Cold nodded, walking into the lounge and depositing Jimmy over on the sofa. He moved to the bar to fix himself a drink as he ordered, “Talk, Mr. Eastwick.”

  Tamerlane and Lorre shoved Charlie down into a chair while Jerry watched silently. It was clear that Jerry was upset about how Charlie was being treated, but Jimmy didn’t think he’d dare say anything.

  Although Jimmy suspected Jerry had more than a passing affection for Charlie, he knew that Jerry’s loyalty to Cold was without question.

  “U.S. marshals are here, and they’re moving Mr. Potolsky to put him into witness protection,” Charlie said, brushing himself off as if Tamerlane and Lorre had left some filth behind. “Tonight.”

  “Why?” Cold asked flatly, sipping at his drink. “What spooked them?”

  “You’re not the only one who’s interested in his premature expiration,” Charlie explained briskly. “Seems Mr. Potolsky has quite the mouth on him. He’s also agreed to testify against several members of the Luchesi family in Perry City.”

  “Oh?” Cold tilted his head curiously.

  “Good,” Lorre scoffed. “We’ve been doing all the fucking heavy lifting. Let the Luchesis take out this one for us.”

  “No, you daft ass,” Charlie grunted. “The Luchesis are still working against you. They want Mr. Potolsky to live long enough to testify against Cold.”

  “They’re protecting him now?” Lorre made a face. “Come the fuck on!”

  “At least until after Cold’s trial,” Charlie said with an exasperated sigh. “Once Cold is in jail, I don’t expect Mr. Potolsky will have very long to live. Mr. Blalock will certainly see to that.”

  “I don’t suppose my little present to the FBI has stirred any more interest in his direction?” Cold asked dryly.

  “You mean that cute little evidence Tamerlane planted?” Charlie rolled his eyes. “Look, contrary to what you may believe, not everyone at the bureau is a complete twat. They already know Blalock is dirty, but they’re much more concerned with you at the moment. They know what you’re doing, taking the case apart piece by piece, and Mr. Potolsky is all they have left.”

  “They still have plenty as you have yet to deliver on your end of our bargain,” Cold pointed out sharply. “Let me worry about Mr. Potolsky now. Just tell me what hotel he’s being moved to.”

  “The Wynne Hotel,” Charlie replied. “Big fancy one downtown.”

  Jimmy frowned, chewing on his lower lip. That was the same hotel where he and Cold had spent their first night together. He definitely wasn’t going to be staying there again.

  Cold glanced up to Tamerlane, asking plainly, “Can you do it?”

  “It’s busy, Boss,” Tamerlane replied dutifully, thinking it all over with a wrinkle in his brow. “We were already looking at a full security detail with feds. Now we got U.S. marshals and Luchesi assholes in the mix? It’s gonna be real busy, but yeah, I can do it.”

  “What about a distraction?”

  “Whatcha thinkin’?”

  “Thirdsies,” Cold said with a small smile.

  Tamerlane grinned wickedly. “Oh, yeah. That’d do it.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Lorre agreed heartily. “That would definitely fucking do it.”

  “Let’s go take a little walk by the pool,” Cold said, glancing at Jerry. “Stay here with Mr. Eastwick and Jimmy. We won’t be too long.”

  Jimmy watched Cold leave with Lorre and Tamerlane, awkwardly finding himself staring at Charlie or whatever his name was. He got up, heading to the bar to make himself a drink. He fumbled around with the bottles and was startled when Jerry materialized at his side.

&
nbsp; “Appletini, monsieur?” Jerry asked politely. “Please, allow me.”

  “Oh! Sure! Thank you, Jerry.” Jimmy returned to his spot on the couch, looking at the empty fireplace and trying to avoid any eye contact with Charlie.

  “I’m not going to arrest you, Mr. Poe,” Charlie soothed. “There’s no reason to be so nervous around me.”

  “I have zero reason to trust you,” Jimmy accused. “I actually believed everything you told me!”

  “The best lies start with a grain of truth,” Charlie replied gently. “I was not dishonest about my mum taking me to England when I was a child or about her bastard birth.”

  “Who’s your grandfather then?” Jimmy demanded.

  “William Carville,” Charlie replied without hesitation.

  “Thanks, Jerry,” Jimmy said, accepting his appletini and taking a gulp. He was distracted enough that he didn’t think he had heard Charlie correctly. “Wait. William Carville. The Strassen Springs police chief? That William Carville?”

  “The very one,” Charlie said. “You may have also heard of my grandmother. Geraldine Peters, but people like to call her ‘Geemaw.’”

  “Geemaw?” Jimmy was shocked, asking dubiously, “Geemaw, the one that used to be a gangster’s girlfriend? That Geemaw?”

  “Indeed. Before she became attracted to men who broke the law, she was first infatuated with the men who enforced it. Had the misfortune to fall for one who was already married, as I told you before.” Charlie smiled when Jerry brought him a glass of whiskey. “Merci.”

  “And that’s why you want to ruin your grandfather’s life? Because of what he did to Geemaw?”

  “No, not quite.” Charlie knocked the drink back with a hiss. “He actually did right by Geemaw and my mother for a time. We lived very comfortably and didn’t want for anything. That is, until my mum needed a kidney.”

  Jimmy’s heart dropped. “He wouldn’t give it to her?”

  “No,” Charlie said, gazing down into his empty glass. “It would have outed his affair with Geemaw if he started giving away body parts to children that no one knew about. He refused. She died. And that’s when I started planning. I would find a way to hurt him and take away his family just as he took away mine. In his current position, there wasn’t much I could do to him. I knew that I would need help of a slightly more illicit nature.”

  “You came to Cold,” Jimmy realized out loud.

  “Geemaw referred me actually,” Charlie said with a fond smile. “My dear ol’ Grams still likes her gangsters and introduced us last year. I was hoping to offer my services during the Dickie White case, but that wasn’t necessary. I’m sure you already know all about that.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimmy fibbed.

  “Just like a good mafia husband,” Charlie snorted, “although now I can see why Cold didn’t let you in on my big secret. You’re a shit liar, mate.”

  “Fuck you,” Jimmy said with a scowl, flushing vividly.

  Jerry tried to stifle a giggle from behind the bar, but failed miserably.

  “Fuck both of you,” Jimmy grumbled, smiling against his will. Jerry’s laughter was infectious, and soon they were all laughing together. He scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning, “Ugh. My life is so insane.”

  “But very happy, monsieur,” Jerry noted with a wink.

  “Wedding is coming up, all that,” Charlie chimed in. “There’s plenty to be happy about.”

  “Only if I agree to it, and we can keep Rod out of freakin’ prison,” Jimmy said glumly. “Gonna be hard to get married if he’s locked up.”

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Charlie assured him. “Cold has every possible contingency accounted for. I’m going to handle things on my end, and once Mr. Potolsky is taken care of, there will simply be no case. All the prosecution will have is a lot of fancy sworn statements. No judge is going to convict on a bunch of hearsay.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Jimmy said with a sigh. “I know Cold is a genius, I do. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what he can do. He always has these perfect plans, and everything always falls together like magic. I’m just... worried.”

  “Trust me, Mr. Poe,” Charlie said more seriously. “If anyone can beat this, it’s Roderick Legrand. The guys at the bureau are smart boys, but they’ve got nothing on your fella.”

  “Yeah.” Jimmy looked up when he heard familiar footsteps, smiling brightly when Cold walked in. “They sure don’t.”

  “Pardon?” Cold quirked a brow. He was alone now, leisurely sitting down beside Jimmy.

  “Nothing,” Jimmy said with a sheepish grin. “You get all your gangster business taken care of?”

  “Yes,” Cold said simply.

  “So, we’re good?” Charlie asked politely.

  “For now,” Cold replied after a moment, thoughtfully glancing at his nails. “Please be sure that you don’t neglect your end of the bargain. My patience is thin.”

  Even though Cold’s voice was calm, Jimmy heard the threat. He was pretty sure that Charlie did, too.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Charlie said with a strained smile. “By the time Mr. Potolsky is singing with the angels, the last of the evidence against you will be gone.”

  “Good,” Cold said briskly. “Tamerlane and Lorre will be waiting for you outside. They have questions about the security that I hope you’ll be kind enough to answer.”

  “Of course.”

  “Jerry? If you’d please walk him out.”

  “Of course, monsieur,” Jerry said, offering Charlie a small smile as they left.

  “Now,” Cold said once they were alone, smirking at Jimmy. “I believe that someone was hungry, needed a shower, and wanted to take a nap?”

  “Mmm,” Jimmy hummed happily, “and in that exact order, too. How did you know?”

  “One of these days, Jimmy, you will learn that I really do know everything.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The day after Charlie’s unexpected visit started out the same as every other, but Jimmy knew something was wrong the second Cold didn’t finish his coffee. The abandoned cup spoke volumes, and Jimmy was immediately nervous. Cold told him that he had important business to attend to and asked Jimmy not to disturb him for a while.

  It wasn’t the request itself that bothered Jimmy. After all, he and Cold didn’t spend every second of every single day together. It was how Cold had asked, harsh and clipped, barely waiting for Jimmy to reply before leaving him at the table with the rest of his breakfast equally neglected.

  Jimmy felt a tug in his gut, and he didn’t know what to do. He could feel in his bones that trouble was ahead. He obviously didn’t know all the details of what Cold was planning for Mr. Potolsky, but the circumstances were not good, obvious intent to commit homicide aside.

  The Wynne Hotel was a bustling establishment right in the middle of downtown, and certainly not ideal for a covert assassination attempt. There was also the added danger of federal agents and members of the Luchesi family who wanted to see Cold dead or in prison.

  Jimmy tried to reassure himself that Cold knew what he was doing. After all, Cold hadn’t stayed in power for so long by being foolish or sloppy. It was all going to work out just fine.

  And by just fine, Jimmy realized, he was advocating for his husband to successfully murder someone.

  Shit.

  His own appetite now lost, he resigned himself to the living room with some of his textbooks to study. He turned the television on for noise, trying to focus on his reading. He still had a semester of school left in the spring before graduation and then the bar exam. After all of his years of struggling, he would finally be a lawyer.

  But then what?

  Jimmy set his book down with a frown. He had always wanted to become a lawyer to help his father and other innocent people who were being falsely accused. His brief time in court with Cold had been thrilling and exciting, and he had to admit that he had enjoyed it immensely. But Cold wa
sn’t an innocent client, far from it.

  Cold was actively destroying the case against him for a crime that he was absolutely guilty of. Although Jimmy could sympathize with his motives, Cold had still broken the law, and he was going to keep breaking it to save himself from going back to prison.

  Jimmy knew in his heart that Cold was a good person. He could be loving, passionate, loyal, and he always took care of those closest to him. But he was also a monster, a killer, and had little regard for human life outside of his chosen family. Jimmy was once again brought to a very uncomfortable crossroads.

  How could he keep justifying Cold’s actions? Or did he even need to? Couldn’t he just keep blissfully ignoring the obvious moral dilemma and continue on happily as before?

  Jimmy wasn’t sure, but trying to decide was making his head hurt. He knew that Mr. Potolsky was going to die, perhaps today, and having that knowledge and doing nothing to prevent it made him feel dirty.

  He glanced up at the television, wondering if he would have to hear about Mr. Potolsky’s death on the news like he had with the others, the unnamed witness who died in prison and Mr. Waugh. Mr. Waugh was especially uncomfortable, and he tried to block out the vivid memories of his death and failed spectacularly.

  So lost in thought, he jumped when his phone beeped. It was his father checking in, and Jimmy quickly tapped away a benign and mostly honest reply. Everything was great, he said via text, plans for the wedding were almost done and things were looking good for the case.

  They exchanged a few more messages, and Jimmy was glad they weren’t actually on the phone speaking. He knew that his father would have been able to tell right away that something was wrong, and Jimmy really didn’t want to discuss his troubled thoughts.

  As the texts dwindled, Jimmy got caught back up in reading again. He didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Jerry came to ask him what he would like for lunch. A simple ham sandwich was all he wanted, and he thanked Jerry before returning to his book once more.

  When he heard the plate clink against the side table, Jimmy automatically said, “Thank you, Jerry.”

  “Oh, you’re very welcome, mate,” Charlie’s voice replied with a snort.