“So, we’re all here, and Cold and Jerry are out looking for Thirdsies?” Mickey asked. “Just the two of them? Why don’t we go help them?”
“Because the last thing Cold told me was for all of us to stay put and hold tight,” Jules said firmly. “Said the same for you two if you ever showed up. We do what we’re fuckin’ told.”
Roger made a face.
Duncan flopped down into a chair and put his head on the table. “Well, this is just ducky.”
Pym reappeared from the basement. “They’re still fighting the fire, and the cops are fuckin’ everywhere. You guys left a hell of a damn body count.”
“More good news!” Duncan groaned sarcastically.
“They’re still reporting about those guys who got shot at the gas station,” Pym went on, casting a sideways glance to Mickey. “No description of the suspect yet.”
“That’s something at least,” Mickey muttered.
“And hey!” Roger grinned cheerfully. “We’re all breathing!”
“Except my boy!” Valdemar snapped. “We don’t know where he is! He could be dead! Run over! Someone could have kidnapped him and sold him for his organs!”
“Cold will find him,” Jules promised. “We just gotta hang tight. Trust the Boss.” He put a thick hand on Valdemar’s shoulder and urged him into the living room. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”
“I’m going back downstairs,” Pym announced. “I’ll let you guys know if I hear anything else.”
“Later, Pym.” Roger waved. “Have fun!”
Pym flipped him off.
Duncan still had his head down on the table, and he mumbled, “I’m gonna stay right here.”
“You do that, Duncan.” Mickey patted his back.
“I’m glad you got to kill Salvatore. I mean it. I hope…” Duncan looked up to offer a sad smile. “I hope it helped.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m gonna go check on Crybaby,” Roger said. “Make sure she’s okay.”
“Go ahead.” Mickey flinched when Roger kissed his cheek, but he allowed it.
Now it was just him, Duncan, and Rufus left in the kitchen. He’d seen no sign of Alistair or little Rowena, and he assumed they were upstairs.
“Well, this has been fun.” Rufus clapped. “I think it’s time for me to take my leave.”
“No.” Mickey narrowed his eyes. “Cold said for all of us to stay here. That includes you.” He stalked slowly toward Rufus. “Especially you, as a matter of fact. Think it’s kinda funny you just happen to have some judge call you about our safe house being raided… and then you vanish?”
“I told you, I was finishing up that Marco shit for Cold,” Rufus argued. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to pour cement?”
“Cold’s been worried about a rat in the house,” Mickey mused, looking over Rufus with a sneer. “I wonder if it’s you. You still loyal to those Luchesi fucks? Trying to play us?”
Rufus’ eyes widened in alarm. “What? No! I was shocked that I even got the call! I don’t know how they knew about it!”
“Well, someone fuckin’ knew because they had to get a warrant.”
“Yes, but I don’t know how!” Rufus snapped. “Kindly get the fuck out of my face.”
“No.”
“Mickey, come on,” Duncan urged, sitting up at the table. “You gotta let this rat business go.”
