Pym hovered close to Cold but didn’t sit down right away. Mickey sat on the end of the couch closest to Cold, and Roger sat next to him. Duncan flitted about before finally sitting down in the middle. The rest of them got settled where they could, and Crybaby wheeled herself up to the end of the couch opposite Mickey.
“Come on, boy!” Valdemar called. “It’s time.”
Thirdsies had apparently been hiding under the bed, and he reluctantly crawled out to join them. He sat on the floor with Valdemar, and Pym casually wandered over to sit on the coffee table behind them.
Mickey looked over their little crew, and he found himself smiling. They’d come a very long way from that tiny office at Slick Rick’s, and this was only the beginning.
“Cristian Luchesi has asked for a meeting,” Cold announced, “to discuss our terms for the city.”
“Ha!” Roger cheered. “We did it! He’s ready to fuckin’ run!”
“Fuck yes!” Crybaby pumped her fist.
“Of course he’s trying to put on a good show for us.” Cold couldn’t contain his sly smile. “It’s all smoke. He’s weak, and both of his brothers have retreated and taken what’s left of their men with them. Now it’s time to finally rid the city of him and his family once and for all.”
“We’re not gonna listen to what he has to say?” Duncan asked quietly. “I mean, maybe we can work something out?”
Mickey glared at Duncan. He couldn’t believe he’d said that. “Work something out? After they killed my grandfather? After they almost killed Crybaby?”
“I’m sorry, I just thought—”
“Clearly you didn’t think real hard before opening your fuckin’ mouth!”
“We didn’t come this far to share with nobody,” Jules growled. “Fuck no, we’re not workin’ out shit.”
Duncan cowered.
“Jules is right.” Cold nodded. “No half-measures. All or nothing, and what we’ve earned is all of Strassen Springs.” He leaned back in his chair. “I do want this to be a peaceful discussion, however. Family only. Just us Gentlemen and Cristian’s immediate subordinates.”
“And your darling plan?” Rufus asked smugly.
Mickey scowled.
That bastard knew. So did Jules probably. But who else?
Mickey trusted Cold with his life, but the secrecy was bothering him. More specifically, being excluded was making him uneasy. He couldn’t help Cold if he didn’t know what was going on.
“Everything is ready,” Cold said. “Our new prosecutor is on board, the evidence is set, and Detective Carville is only a phone call away.”
“Perfect.”
“Still not going to tell us what’s going on?” Roger asked. “Not even a tiny bit?”
“I need you all to trust me,” Cold replied. “We’ve come this far, yes? We’re almost at the end, and the Luchesi family will be out of our city for good.”
“Our city,” Jules repeated. “Damn, I like the sound of that.”
“When does he wanna meet?” Crybaby asked. “And where?”
“At noon today.” Cold folded his fingers neatly in his lap. “There is a derelict parking garage near the pork processing plant. It’s quiet, limited access. A perfect location for us all to have a little chat.”
“We coming in hot?” Mickey tilted his head. “Maybe arrange for some muscle? Some kind of backup?”
“No.” Cold shook his head. “Keeping this meeting peaceful is key to our success. I don’t want to send the wrong message. I want Cristian to be… comfortable.”
Valdemar raised his hand. “Do Molotov cocktails send the wrong message?”
“Yes.”
