Roger stayed in the office with Jules and Alistair, and that was fine by Mickey. He wanted to keep some distance between them and maintain his focus on the job tonight.
He thought over his promise to take Roger to a hotel room afterward, and a rush of heat flooded his chest. Shit. He was getting distracted again. Even without Roger being right in his face, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Mickey needed to scratch this itch and rid himself of this temptation. He was a one and done sort of guy, and that’s all this was. Once he’d had Roger in bed, he wouldn’t have to worry about wanting him again.
This strange attraction, whatever it was, would be over.
Right?
Jules came to find him when it was getting close to time, inviting him back to the office to stock up on ammunition. Roger didn’t appear to take any, and Mickey was silently thankful.
The last thing that lunatic needed was a gun.
Mickey tucked the extra magazines into his jacket and checked his guns one final time before sliding them into his shoulder holsters. He nodded at Jules. “Ready.”
“Let’s go.” Jules rose up to his feet, looking to Roger. “You good?”
“I’m good,” Roger replied curtly. Whatever earlier madness had possessed him seemed to have ebbed, and he appeared calm.
“Good luck, Gentlemen,” Alistair said solemnly.
They piled into Jules’ El Camino, driving a short distance to an abandoned shoe store. It was one of their safe houses, and they switched over to the unmarked van parked in the back.
The giant flames on the El Camino were not exactly discreet.
They donned black masks and gloves, grabbed silencers and checked their weapons once more, and then they all piled into the van. Jules got behind the wheel, Mickey took the front seat, and Roger hunkered down in the back.
Mickey could feel the faint prickles of adrenaline beginning to stir beneath his skin knowing what was to come. It was the same sweet anticipation as waiting for Christmas morning to arrive but already knowing there would only be coal. He wondered if Roger felt it too.
The fire he’d seen in Roger’s eyes before, that intense passion…
Maybe they were more alike than Mickey thought.
Roger was oddly quiet again, and Mickey looked back to see what he was doing.
Roger winked at him and pulled his mask down to blow him a kiss.
Maybe they weren’t that alike after all.
Rolling his eyes, Mickey faced forward again.
They were almost at the restaurant.
Ragazzi’s was one of the city’s oldest restaurants, plain and unassuming except for the hand painted name scrawled across the front glass in glittering gold and green. The lights inside were dim, and Mickey saw the ‘open’ neon sign flick off as they drove around.
Right on time.
Jules parked a block away, and they exited the van in silence and walked through the alley toward the back door. There weren’t many people on the sidewalk, and no one seemed to notice them slipping off into the darkness.
Mickey took the lead and when the door was in his sights, he pulled his guns from their holsters. The silencers would help muffle the sound, but it wouldn’t be long after the first shot was fired that everyone inside would know what was happening.
Jules flanked him and reached for the door.
As Galavant had promised, it was unlocked.
Mickey took a deep breath and surged forward.
The door led into a storage area packed with crates of food and overflowing trash cans. There were two men inside the doorway and three more standing by the entryway that led into the kitchen.
