Mickey put his guns away and invited Roger into his arms for a tight hug.
“So, that’s been your big fancy plan all along?” Crybaby asked, wheeling over to Cold. “To frame those Luchesi assholes for the murder of their father?”
“Yes. I needed something in place in case the war did not go favorably for us. I chose Matteo and Cristian because I knew Luigi would bow out at the first sign of trouble. Luckily for us, the war went well, and Cristian fell into my little trap anyway because he decided to be difficult.”
“Why didn’t we snuff them out, good sir?” Valdemar asked. “Now would have been an opportune time.”
“Cristian was right in that business needs to get back to normal. If we’d killed him, his brothers would come back at us with everything they had, and the war would keep going. Naturally, we’d win, but our new political friends want peace.”
“And they’re definitely the sort of friends you like to keep happy,” Rufus noted.
“You know what would make me happy?” Crybaby laughed. “For one of you ugly motherfuckers to roll me over to the nearest fucking bar! We have to fucking celebrate!”
“Hey, you.” Jules waved at Mickey. “Gimme my keys. It’s rude to keep a lady waitin’.”
Mickey tossed them over.
“Let’s go, Gentlemen,” Cold said, leading the charge back to the limo.
“I need a minute, Boss.” Mickey looked to Cold. “Please.”
“Of course. We’ll wait for you.” Cold paused, turning back around to approach Mickey. “Thank you.”
“Just doin’ my job, Boss.”
“You saved my life.” Cold’s icy eyes softened. “I will never forget that.”
“We’re Gentlemen.” Mickey stood a little straighter. “We take care of each other.”
“So we do.” Cold smiled. “Mmm. Don’t dawdle too long. Crybaby may start to injure people if she doesn’t get that drink.”
“He is right to fear me!” Crybaby cackled.
“I won’t be long.”
Whooping and cheering, the Gentlemen left the parking garage. Mickey and Roger stayed, and Mickey knelt beside Duncan’s body. He closed his eyes and gently touched his chest.
Still warm, and he looked peaceful. Mickey didn’t know why that pissed him off, but it did.
“I’m sorry,” Roger said. “He was a backstabbing little shit, but I know… he was your friend.”
“He betrayed us.” Mickey shook his head. “He wasn’t my friend. I wonder if he ever was. If he’d given even the tiniest fuck about me… or my fuckin’ Pops…”
“Yeah, but you didn’t fuckin’ know.”
“Cold did. I think he knew for a while. He says he wasn’t sure until he got that tape, but I bet he knew.” Mickey laughed bitterly as he stood up. “He always knows, doesn’t he?”
Roger took Mickey’s hand. “That’s why he’s the Boss.” He leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Wanna skip the bar and have our own little private party? I can be extra annoying so you can fuck me up real good.”
“I’m thinking about skipping the party entirely.”
“No, come on.” Roger tugged at Mickey’s hand.
“I just murdered my best friend for conspiring to betray us all. Not having the strongest urge to celebrate.”
“But we also took Strassen Springs. Like, the city. The whole thing. That deserves at least four drinks, some groping, and I’ll suck your dick in the bathroom.”
Mickey cracked a crooked little smile. Some of the pain ebbed when Roger beamed up at him, and the hole inside of his chest didn’t feel as empty now.
