by K. L. Hiers
Jimmy jerked his head up, hissing, “What are you doing here?”
“Business,” Charlie said shortly, “of the unofficial variety.” He held up his hands when Jimmy scowled, saying reassuringly, “I’ve already been searched and prodded all over so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Whatever,” Jimmy mumbled, closing his book. “What are you doing here? Rod is upstairs.”
“Waiting to be summoned.” Charlie shrugged. “Figured I’d pop in. Have a little chat.”
“What could we possibly talk about?”
“Your wedding? The weather?”
“Why Paul Waugh blew his brains out when he saw you?” Jimmy accused sullenly.
Charlie was surprised, laughing, “Wow! Just going right for the meaty bits, aren’t you?”
“So, why?” Jimmy crossed his arms, glaring up at him as the bloody images flashed before his eyes. “I was blaming myself for a while, but you know, I’m starting to think it was because of you.”
Charlie sat down on the other end of the sofa, replying carefully, “He knew that I was working for Cold in a roundabout way. When Geemaw, my Grams, introduced us? It was at Mr. Waugh’s flower shop.”
“And when he saw you with me, what? He assumed you were one of Rod’s employees?”
“Well, he did point a gun at me and then at himself,” Charlie said dryly. “Hard to say exactly what went through his mind other than that bullet.”
“Wow,” Jimmy scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. “You really are a bastard, you know that?”
“I couldn’t very well blow my cover or reveal my indiscretions with Cold to my handlers,” Charlie said with a short scoff. “I’m sorry that Mr. Waugh died, truly, but there was nothing I could do.”
“Whatever,” Jimmy muttered, opening his book and making up his mind to ignore Charlie.
“Sometimes we make decisions that have horrible consequences,” Charlie said sternly, “but the ends justify the means. You don’t want Cold to go to prison, and I want to make Mr. Carville suffer. We can’t do either of those things without breaking a few eggs.”
“But we’re not talking about eggs!” Jimmy protested, slamming his book shut again despite all intentions to keep it open. “We’re talking about people! People with families and kids and—”
“And I would gladly avoid losing lives if it was possible,” Charlie soothed.
“It is possible!” Jimmy countered. “There has to be a better way!”
“But that’s not the kind of world I live in,” Charlie said with a cool smile. “It’s not the kind that you married into. That’s not the man your husband is.”
“I know exactly what kind of man Rod is,” Jimmy argued fiercely. “I don’t need you to tell me.”
“You sure about that, mate?” Charlie raised a skeptical brow.
Before Jimmy could bark back, Jerry was at the doorway and waving at Charlie. “Come along, monsieur. He is ready for you.”
“Always a pleasure, Mr. Poe,” Charlie chirped, rising from the couch to follow Jerry. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder at Jimmy. “Oh, thoughts about singing for the wedding? I’ve been told you have the most wonderful voice—”
“Drop dead, Charlie,” Jimmy growled furiously.
“Duly noted! We’ll put a pin in that for later, shall we?”
Jimmy watched them leave and tried to go back to reading his book, but he wasn’t able to get through a single sentence. Frustrated, he tossed it over on the coffee table. It slid further than he’d expected and knocked his sandwich on the floor.
“Well, fuck.”
He sighed, kneeling down to pick up the mess.
“Whatcha doin’, Twigs?” Jules’ deep voice greeted him, a curious look on his face as he peered down at the sandwich bits scattered everywhere.
“Trying to clean up,” Jimmy said, grabbing the last of the breadcrumbs that he could get by hand and setting the plate back on the table. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m your babysitter for the rest of the day,” Jules said. “Boss’ orders.”
“No Jerry?”
“Jerry’s gonna be busy,” Jules replied with a smirk. “Him and Boss got errands to run in a little bit.”
“Errands? But what about his ankle monitor?” Jimmy frowned suspiciously. “He can’t go anywhere unless it’s for court.”
“Huh. You don’t say.”
“I don’t want to know,” Jimmy said quickly, holding up his hands.
“They ain’t gonna be back for a while, so me and you are gonna hang out. How does that sound?”
“Peachy.” Jimmy managed a smile, plopping back on the couch and stretching out his legs. He didn’t mind Jules’ company, but it made him worry. “Is Rod okay?”
“He’s fine,” Jules said, sitting down in the chair closest to Jimmy. “He’s got the rest of the Gentlemen with him. Don’t you worry about him.”
“And is Charlie gonna be there?” Jimmy asked, struggling to hide his contempt.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Can anyone around here ever give me a straight answer?”
Jules thought the question over before bluntly replying, “Nope.”
Jimmy pouted and silently flipped through the channels on the television until he dozed off. His dreams were troubled, bloody, and dark, and he woke up gasping to find Jules still sitting at his side and munching on popcorn.
“Hey, sleepin’ beauty,” Jules grunted through a mouthful. “You okay?”
“Fine. Ugh, what time is it?” Jimmy blinked and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
“Like five o’clock.”
“Shit!” Jimmy sprang up. “Is Rod still here?”
“Nope. He’s out. Told me to tell you to be a good boy.”
“Really?” Jimmy wrinkled his nose skeptically.
“No,” Jules chuckled, throwing more popcorn into his mouth. “Just sounded like somethin’ he’d tell you, y’know?”
“Did he say anything?” Jimmy asked hopefully, picking up the remote and fiddling with the buttons.
“Just told me to take care of you.”
Jimmy smiled a little at that, flipping through the channels to find something to watch. He passed over a news station, pausing when he saw a raging fire. “What the hell?”
“—Fire downtown continues to burn as authorities work to control the blaze,” an anxious reporter announced over the terrifying footage. “The Wynne Hotel has been engulfed for over an hour, and the fire has spread to neighboring businesses—”
“Rod,” Jimmy whispered, his heart clenching tightly in his chest. He jumped up to his feet as he watched the terrible fire in horror.
“Rescue workers are still attempting to evacuate everyone inside, but there are still several guests unaccounted for,” the reporter went on. “There is no known cause for the fire, but witnesses have come forward to say that they heard an explosion before the fire began—”
“Jules?” Jimmy stared at him urgently. “What is going on? Is Rod okay? That’s, that’s the hotel where that witness was being kept!”
“But it’s not time yet...” Jules glanced down at his phone, his usually calm expression twisting up with concern. Jimmy didn’t know if it was a troubling message or the absence of one that was upsetting him. Jules put the popcorn bowl down, dialing and pressing the phone against his ear.
“Jules!” Jimmy’s voice was shrill now, and he turned back to gawk at the burning fire. He felt sick, and he realized that he was shaking. He’d picked up enough from listening to Cold and the others to know that a fire was certainly going to be involved with this new plan, but something had gone terribly wrong.
He had never felt so worried about Cold before.
Thirdsies, Jerry, Tamerlane, and Lorre might be in trouble, too. Pym and Valdemar could also be at risk. And Charlie, Jimmy’s mind reluctantly added. They could all be in terrible danger or much, much worse.
“Jules!” Jimmy snapped desperately, his eyes startin
g to fill with tears.
Jules wasn’t responding, calmly poking buttons on his phone and continuing to redial numbers.
Jimmy had no idea who Jules was trying to call, but no one was picking up. His heart sank down into his stomach, getting immediately chewed up by his churning guts. He grabbed his phone and tried to call Cold.
It went directly to voicemail, and Jimmy wanted to throw up. He kept calling, over and over, and there was no answer.
There was a sudden banging at the front door, so loud that the sound carried all the way back to the lounge where Jules and Jimmy were.
“Who the hell is that?” Jimmy demanded. “Where are the guards?”
“Time to go, Twig,” Jules said with a low grunt. “You got shoes?”
“What? Shoes? Upstairs—”
“Anything down here?” Jules demanded impatiently.
“I... I might have... my flip-flops might be by the pool?” Jimmy jerked as the knocking came again. He could hear men shouting; unsure what was going on, he backed away from the doorway.
Jules stood up, checking the guns at his sides and looking at Jimmy. “Go grab them. Right now.”
His legs numb with fear, Jimmy forced himself to hurry outside through the sliding glass doors and scramble around the poolside searching for his shoes. He didn’t see any flashing lights or hear any sirens outside, and he was certain that their unexpected company was most unwelcome.
Jimmy spied a pair of neon purple flip-flops underneath one of the lounge chairs, crouching down to retrieve them. He heard something go whizzing by his head and choked on his own breath when the glass top of the nearby table shattered.
Someone was shooting at him!
“Jules!” Jimmy screamed, stumbling clumsily and clawing at the concrete to get himself moving. He could hear more bullets pinging the ground behind him, next to him, then all around him.
Guns raised, Jules came flying outside and started firing back. It sounded like cannon fire compared to the silenced shots zipping by, and he roared, “House! Get in the fuckin’ house!”
Hands clamped over his ears, Jimmy bolted inside as fast as he could. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Jules rejoined Jimmy and grabbed his arm, marching toward the side of the house. “We’re gettin’ the fuck outta here.”
“Who the fuck is that!” Jimmy yelled, his ears ringing miserably. “Who the fuck is shooting at us!”
“No one good,” Jules snapped, leading Jimmy out into the garage. His El Camino was parked there next to a few of Cold’s cars, and he shoved Jimmy over to the passenger side. “Come on, get in!”
Jimmy flopped into the seat and shut his door. He hadn’t even put his flip-flops on, clutching them to his chest and panting hard. He yelped when Jules grabbed his head and shoved him down.
“Head! Seat! Right fuckin’ now!” Jules ordered, cranking the car and hitting the remote for the door. He didn’t even wait for it to come all the way up before he hit the gas and went flying through, the door scraping the top of the car with a loud screech.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jimmy yelled, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth when he heard several loud metallic dings hit the side of the car.
Jules had his window down, firing back with an angry snarl as he sped away from the mansion.
Jimmy heard the tires squealing when they hit the main road, clinging to his flip-flops and trying to breathe. He couldn’t remember ever being so terrified, and tears were streaming down his face. He was shaking all over, and his heart was pounding erratically. He thought of Cold’s firm voice urging him to take deep breaths, and he struggled to calm down.
“Come on,” Jules said gruffly. “Sit up. Dry up. Ain’t nobody followin’ us. You’re okay.”
“Who the fuck was that?” Jimmy asked shakily, flopping up against the seat. He wiped at his face, sniffing loudly. “Was it the Luchesis? What’s happening?”
“Listen to me and listen fucking good,” Jules growled as he sped toward downtown. “This is what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna take you to a diner, real shiny and public like. You’re gonna keep your little skinny ass there until me or one of the Gentlemen comes to get you.”
“Jules,” Jimmy pleaded, “tell me what’s going on.”
“Do you understand?” Jules snapped. “You, diner, do not move.”
“I, I understand,” Jimmy mumbled tearfully. He looked down at the flip-flops still cradled in his arms, and he suddenly couldn’t stop staring at his ring.
He was here. He was safe. He was alive.
All he could do now was hope that Cold was, too.
Jules continued to dial on his phone, running a few lights and tires screaming with every turn. His face was blank now, but his eyes were wild with a fury that Jimmy had never seen before.
“Jules?” Jimmy asked quietly, sniffing back a fresh wave of tears. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
Jules said nothing.
“Jules,” Jimmy said more firmly, his voice rising to a frantic and angry shout. “Hey! Rod is my fucking husband, okay? He’s everything to me! I have a fucking right to know! Now fuckin’ tell me! Who were those guys at the house?”
“Luchesis’ people,” Jules grumbled. “Trying to make a move because shit’s gone real bad. That’s a good sign, though.”
“How the fuck is that a good sign?” Jimmy cried, slamming his flip-flops in his lap.
“Because if they came to the house lookin’ to kill Cold, that means there’s a really good fuckin’ chance that he’s still alive,” Jules replied. “You get it?”
“Shit,” Jimmy whispered, his heart clenching up tight. “What did you mean by shit going bad? What’s happened?”
“Bomb wasn’t supposed to go off,” Jules said quickly. “It was gonna be a dud, some sparkler ass bullshit, okay. Somebody was gonna call in a bomb threat, get the place evacuated, and scare off the Luchesis with the flood of fuckin’ cops that were gonna show up. Tamerlane would nick the guy on his way out, and we’d be done with it.”
“Then why the hell is the city on fuckin’ fire?”
“I don’t know,” Jules confessed. “Thirdsies was supposed to have the shit ready by 5:30, call was gonna be made at 5:45.”
“The news said that the fire’s been burning for over an hour! It’s only—” Jimmy looked at the car radio. “It’s only a quarter after five now!”
“I know,” Jules grunted with a faint snarl. He took a deep breath, saying more calmly, “I know. Somethin’ is wrong. I’m gonna go figure out what while your little ass stays put. Okay?”
“This is crap!” Jimmy bit back, clinging to the dashboard as Jules took another sharp turn. “I could help! I should be there with you!”
“And do what?” Jules snorted. “You gonna help me blow away some fuckin’ gangsters to save Cold? Huh? You gonna take a gun in your hand and pull the fucking trigger?”
“I don’t... I just...” Jimmy felt sick again, swallowing back a tidal wave of bile. He couldn’t imagine taking a life, no matter the circumstances, whispering helplessly, “I want to help.”
“The best way for you to help is to keep your little ass in the diner until me or somebody else comes to get you,” Jules said, aiming for comforting but still sounding gruff. “You got it?”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Sit, order coffee, eat a pie, I don’t fucking care!” Jules took another hard right and screeched to a sudden halt in front of a small twenty-four-hour diner wedged in between a large bank and a department store. “Whatever you do, you do not fucking leave. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jimmy said, fidgeting anxiously. He took a deep breath, trying to summon all the confidence and strength Cold had bestowed upon him. He grabbed Jules’ shoulder, refusing to let go even when he flinched. “You bring him back to me. You hear me?”
“You got it, Little Boss,” Jules replied with an approving grunt. “Now, you and your lil’ flippy floppies get yourself something to eat and just play it cool for a littl
e while.”
“Thank you, Jules.” Jimmy got out, watching the El Camino peel away with a heavy sigh. He glanced up to the city’s skyline, catching a hint of smoke between the buildings above. He could hear the distant wail of sirens and he wanted to throw up again.
He put his flip-flops on and walked into the diner, seating himself down in a corner booth. It was moderately crowded, glancing warily over the other patrons. He managed a smile when the waitress brought him a menu, scanning over the selection.
Jimmy couldn’t decide on a single thing, asking for coffee and setting the menu down abruptly while the waitress went to get it. There was a time in his life, not too long ago, that eating at a diner would have been impossible for him. Even a low-key place like this would have been out of his budget.
The deal he’d made with Cold had changed his world forever. Before that fateful day, Jimmy had no prospects, zero opportunities, and definitely no joy. He’d survived on ramen and water, cried himself to sleep, and felt like a total failure.
Now, he had everything he could ever possibly want and then some.
Jimmy was well fed, clothed, and he had never been so happy. He had suits that cost as much as his often overdue rent once had. Cold would not accept anything less than the absolute best for him, and Jimmy knew he was quite spoiled.
Cold loved him, and though he had always struggled with the words, he had no problem showing it. Whether it was with his body or his money, Jimmy knew that the criminal king of Strassen Springs totally adored him.
The ring on his finger was further proof of that, he thought, glancing down and twisting it anxiously. Cold didn’t just want Jimmy to be his kept boy; he wanted him to be his husband and continue to build their life together.
A future.
Right then and there, Jimmy made up his mind that he would be accepting Cold’s proposal when he saw him again.
If, his troubled mind unhelpfully supplied, if you see him again.
No, he would see Cold, and he would accept any damn proposal he offered. They would get married and have the most ridiculous and over the top wedding ever. Jimmy didn’t care about getting his dream beach ceremony now.
