A few tense minutes passed before there was a knock at the door.
“They’re here,” a gruff voice said.
“Let them in,” Cristian said, standing up and straightening out his jacket.
The door opened and two of the large suited men walked inside the room to flank Cristian’s sides. They looked nervous. Jimmy could hear thunderous footsteps and stalking next through the doorway was Boss Cold himself.
Cold was dirty, his tie missing, and there was blood all over the side of his face. He looked tired, beaten, and absolutely furious. Jimmy didn’t know whose blood was on him, but all that mattered was that his lover was alive and breathing.
“Rod,” Jimmy whimpered.
Cold’s anger flickered for a brief moment, something deep and yearning in his eyes when he saw Jimmy. He swept across the room in a flash, swinging Jimmy right off the floor and into his arms.
Jimmy sobbed, his face crushed against Cold’s shoulder as he clung tightly to him. His nose was throbbing but he didn’t want to move, breathing in Cold’s smell and savoring his warmth.
There had been a terrible moment where he didn’t know if he would ever see Cold again, and that terror seized his chest until he couldn’t breathe. He hiccupped miserably, crying, “I’m so, I’m so sorry... I...”
“Shhhh... I’ve got you,” Cold soothed, rubbing Jimmy’s back and chastely kissing his brow. He smiled at Jimmy, soft and sweet, but it was gone when Cristian spoke up.
“We have a deal?” Cristian asked quietly, watching Cold with the same regard one had for a rabid dog.
Jimmy took his attention away from Cold long enough to spot Jules and Lorre in the doorway, noting how tense they were right away. The air was weirdly electric, and he didn’t know what was about to happen, but it wasn’t going to be good.
“Yes,” Cold said flatly, cradling Jimmy’s face against his chest. He lowered his voice, whispering gently, “Close your eyes, Jimmy.”
“Rod,” Jimmy squeaked.
“Close them now.” Cold turned his body to shield Jimmy’s view as he drew one of his guns from beneath his jacket. Jimmy saw a quick flash of pearl from the handle and then a loud bang as Cold fired.
“What, what!” Jimmy didn’t know what was happening, jerking his head up to see who Cold had shot.
Gary Luchesi was on the floor dead, blood pooling around his head from a single bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.
Jimmy gasped, frantically staring at Cristian and the other Luchesi men in the hall. He didn’t understand what was going on, but no one seemed to be moving. Cold had just killed one of their own men and nothing was happening.
“I do hope you accept my apologies,” Cristian said politely, trying to keep a neutral expression despite the proximity to his relative’s fresh corpse, “and I hope that Gary’s life is adequate satisfaction.”
“No, it will take much more than that to satisfy me. I’ve already told you and the rest of the Luchesi family many times before to stay out of my city,” Cold said icily, his gun now pointed at Cristian. “Certainly you can understand why I’m a little... frustrated.”
“We had a deal,” Cristian growled, his hand hovering at his hip to reach for his own weapon. “You get your dear husband back and kill Gary for his insults against you, and we all walk away.”
“Ah, but you’ve insulted me as well, Cristian,” Cold snarled back with an eerily calm smile.
“Boss Cold, please—”
“You came to my home!” Cold roared furiously, his voice echoing throughout the small room.
Everyone was completely silent.
Cold took a quick breath, dropping back down to a calmer tone as he went on, “You and your brother’s continued disobedience has become quite intolerable. I’ve allowed it to go on for far too long and the fault is mine. When you have a cancer in your midst, you don’t allow it to fester... You cut it out.”
The glass in the windows above their heads shattered, and Jimmy saw the Luchesi men in the hallway all drop dead in rapid succession. He saw more splatters of blood, and his ears were ringing, his brain unable to register everything that was happening.
Jimmy saw Cold shoot Cristian right in his face, and time seemed to slow down. His final thoughts before he passed out were that he couldn’t help but think how very red the blood looked or how weird it was that he was wearing a dead man’s shoes while they were still warm.
