Roderick Legrand, Boss Cold, was stretched out across Jimmy’s couch with his feet kicked up over the back, his arms tucked behind his head. He wore a dark blue three-piece suit, a long navy blue trench coat, and black leather gloves. His shoes were expensive, his tie was definitely silk, and a long scarf was woven around his neck.
Cold looked like a napping cat, relaxed but every muscle was a bundle of coiled danger, ready to strike at any second.
Dangerous, and wow, beautiful. His lips were made for sin, and those eyes of his were sure to kill Jimmy quicker than anything. They were so blue and piercing that Jimmy felt sure the gangster could count the pennies in his pocket right through the denim.
“Uhhh,” Jimmy sputtered, his keys jingling in his nervous hands. Cold’s mugshots did him a great disservice. He didn’t think he had seen anyone that was so handsome in person. Maybe on television or on a magazine cover, but not face to face, not right there on his sofa. “I... uhh...”
Cold glanced around, giving Jimmy a reprieve from his icy gaze, musing, “Can’t imagine that you’ll be able to make a payment today, and after a quick little look around? I already know you don’t have anything to offer as collateral. I imagine whatever you had of value is in Maury’s pawn shop, mm?”
“Look, uh, Mr. Cold, sir?” Jimmy began. “Listen. I’ve been having a really, really bad day. And you don’t care, right, I totally get that. But please. I just lost my job today, and, and I’ve been really trying—”
The floor creaked behind him.
“Allow me to introduce you to my associate,” Cold chirped, cocking his head to the side as he looked over Jimmy’s shoulder. “This is Julian Price. Jules, this is Mr. Poe. Say hello.”
A giant hand curled around the back of Jimmy’s neck and he gasped softly, a deep voice greeting in an all too friendly tone, “Hi.”
Jimmy squeaked quietly in panic, smiling stupidly as he turned his head to gaze up into the terrifying visage leering over him.
Jules Price, Cold’s top enforcer and living proof that Bigfoot did exist and had consummated with humans.
Today sucked so much.
“Jules?” Cold said, his tone far too cheerful. “Will you please give Mr. Poe some encouragement to be a bit more timely with his payments?”
“Gladly,” Jules grunted, his fingers tightening and dragging Jimmy toward the stove.
Jimmy was helpless in Jules’ iron grip and he was certain that kicking and struggling would be utterly useless. But damn if he didn’t try anyway. Especially when Jules lit the stove and got the burner going.
Jules was going to burn him. He was going to freaking burn his hand!
“Wait, wait, please!” Jimmy screamed, wiggling frantically as he tried to pull his hand out of Jules’ giant paws.
Cold watched impassively, not affected by Jimmy’s cries. He glanced at his nails as if debating the merits of a manicure. He was so very handsome; a total and complete bastard, but an especially attractive one.
Jimmy was desperate, and he definitely did not want Jules Price to burn his hand or any other part of his body. He had no job, no money, and he was all out of options.
His body really was all he left.
“Wait!” Jimmy shouted, snapping his head around to look at Cold. “We, we can work something else out!”
“I’m afraid we’re far, far past that point,” Cold drawled, bored. “Empty promises don’t have any cash value, Mr. Poe. Take your punishment like a good boy, and—”
“Me! You can have me!” Jimmy yelled when he felt the heat of the flame warming up the tips of his fingers. “I’ll get you off, I’ll freakin’ get you off, please, I’ll do whatever you want!”
Cold’s brow arched curiously, calling out, “Jules, hold up.”
Jules pouted but pulled Jimmy’s hand back. Jimmy had never seen someone look so disappointed before.
Cold slowly swung his legs off the sofa in one fluid motion, his feet hitting the carpet as he rose to approach and strolled over to Jimmy with a strange smirk playing over his lips. He came close, so close that Jimmy could smell his cologne and see the splash of silver glittering through his dark hair.
“I’ll... I’ll do whatever you want,” Jimmy offered nervously, fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides.
“Whatever I want?” Cold echoed.
“Maury said... uh, that maybe, you’d be interested...?” Jimmy’s voice was almost a squeal, Jules’ forearm tightening around his neck. “That I could work off my debt... by... getting you off?”
Oh, Jimmy felt like a complete and total fool for saying it out loud. He couldn’t read Cold’s expression, not at all, and he could hear Jules chuckling faintly behind him. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe Maury was wrong.
