Mickey grabbed Roger’s arm and pulled him close, hissing in his ear, “Shut your big stupid mouth.”
Roger grinned, immediately leaning into Mickey’s rough grip and grabbing his ass. “Oh, tough guy. Mm, you gonna make me?”
Mickey hadn’t intended to get Roger riled up quite like this, but at least it had distracted him.
“Later,” he murmured. “Behave.”
“Mm, yes, sir.”
“We checked all over the neighborhood, four blocks out and as close to the house as we dared,” Jerry said quickly. “No sign of Thirdsies anywhere.”
“Did the cops nab him?” Jules grunted.
“As of right now, no,” Cold replied. “At least, he has not been arrested. Otherwise there’d be a record of him being booked.”
“He couldn’t have simply vanished!” Valdemar groaned. He was a little unsteady now as he walked into the kitchen, and there was no telling how many drinks Jules had given him. “He has to be out there! Somewhere! Anywhere!”
“We will find him,” Cold swore. “We know he couldn’t have left the city…”
“What happened?” Roger whispered in Mickey’s ear, biting down on his lobe to hide what he was doing while Cold was talking with the others.
Mickey held back a growl, and he grabbed Roger’s hair to twist his head aside. Subtly as he could, he whispered in reply, “I’ll tell you later. Now shut up.”
“Come on.”
“Shhhh… hush.”
Jerry left briefly to get more drinks, passing out cups and filling them efficiently. Valdemar took the bottle right from his hand and chugged until Roger wrestled it away.
“Hey, hey! Look, we’ll find him,” Roger soothed. “He’s a kid, right? He’s gotta be scared out of his mind. He’s probably hiding somewhere. He might even be in the damn house still, hunkered down in a closet or something.”
“What if the cops got him and are just holding him?” Duncan asked quietly. “I mean, they don’t have to arrest him to pick him up, technically. He’s a minor. They could try to call CPS or some shit.”
“Detective Carville is aware we’re looking for him,” Cold said. “He was not privy to the search, so he doesn’t know if any suspects were apprehended. He is, however, trying to find out.”
“Why can’t he call someone?” Mickey was hesitant to speak up since he was probably on Cold’s shit list, but it was worth asking.
“Because it would look suspicious if he’s inquiring about a case that isn’t his own,” Cold replied shortly. “Especially one that involves the Gentlemen. He wisely does not wish to be so forward with our friendship.”
“Right.”
“Jerry,” Cold said, “you and Valdemar go back out. Jerry, you drive. Jules, go with them. Look for Thirdsies.”
“I wanna go, Boss,” Roger said.
“No.” Cold narrowed his eyes. “You were with Mickey when he killed Salvatore. I’m sure the authorities are working with the witnesses to get a description of you both. It’s only a matter of time before your faces could be plastered all over the news.”
“We’ll just go ask Pym,” Roger grumbled.
“Whatever you want, Boss,” Mickey said quickly, trying to speak over Roger.
“Rufus, go with Duncan and set something up at the Wynne Hotel.” Cold pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get rooms for everyone under Mr. Thomas Frost’s name. They have my information.” He scowled at Mickey and Roger. “Except you two.”
“Yes, Boss.” Mickey cringed.
“Go. Now.” Cold walked back to his chair at the fireplace and sat down heavily.
Duncan and Rufus left with Valdemar and Jerry right after them. Roger mumbled something about checking on Crybaby again and headed back upstairs. Mickey remained in the kitchen, finishing off his drink. Jules lumbered over to Cold, and he leaned down to speak to him.
