“Whatever you need, Boss,” he said. “I’m on it.”
“Once the air conditioner has been sabotaged, it may take some time before the homeowners contact the warranty company for repairs.” Cold rose from his chair, approaching the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink. “When they make that call, we move.”
“We’ll have the van, the goods, all that ready to go,” Jules continued. “All Valdemar’s gotta do is set up the fire shit in the homes, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” Valdemar confirmed. “Let my boy know the time you desire, and he shall adjust accordingly.”
“I will select the time.” Cold smirked as he took a leisurely sip. “Mickey will take the lead to dispatch as many of the Luchesi men as possible as they flee the home. Jules, Jerry, Roger, and myself will assist him.”
“Not telling ol’ Rufus, huh?” Jules got up to help himself to a drink.
“No, we are not.”
That was fine by Mickey. There was something about that man’s punchable face he did not like at all.
“Until I have selected the time, I would ask that you all restrict your activities to either here or the safe house.” Cold took another sip. “Also, I would suggest none of you are out and about tomorrow morning. Say, around nine o’clock. Maybe a little before.”
Mickey smiled.
That was the time that Mr. Head, the city prosecutor, was due to arrive at the courthouse.
Thirdsies looked pretty pleased with himself, and Mickey almost expected Cold to reach down and give him a pat on the head as walked by to sit back in his chair.
“I guess you’re still not gonna tell us why you’re so keen on killing the prosecutor?” Duncan ventured warily. “Or why you wanna keep Matteo alive?”
“I believe you have some shopping to do,” Cold replied, well, coldly.
Mickey stared at Duncan and wished he could throttle him or somehow telepathically instruct him to shut his trap.
“Right. Of course, Boss.” Duncan sagged. “Come on, Roger. Let’s go get this over with.”
Roger gave Mickey a quick smile before moving to follow Duncan to the door.
Mickey hated how easy it was to smile back, and he ducked his head when he felt his face getting warm.
In the middle of a gang war vying for control of the city was a strange place to meet someone special, but… it was nice.
“Remember to behave yourself,” Mickey warned.
“Yes, sir,” Roger replied coyly, winking before he slipped outside.
Mickey allowed himself to enjoy the flicker of heat those words gave him, and he cleared his throat, quickly schooling his face back to a neutral expression.
“If there’s nothing else,” Cold drawled, “I have to go check on my little sister and make sure she hasn’t locked her teacher in the bathroom or made any whacking attempts.”
“Very good, sir,” Valdemar chirped. “The boy and I will travel to the safe house to prepare the incendiary devices.”
“Excellent.”
“I’ll go take care of the air conditioners,” Jerry said. “With any luck, the forecast will be blistering.”
“We can only hope.”
One by one, the Gentlemen all departed to take care of their respective assignments or retreat to various corners of the house. Cold remained by the fireplace, staring at the ashes while he finished his drink.
Mickey found himself lingering, having no immediate task.
“Would you like a drink?” Cold waved to the cabinet.
