“Bullshit.”
“How’d you get home then?” Jules asked. “Did you jimmy open the door?”
“Roger broke the window,” Mickey said sourly.
Jules barked out a laugh.
Duncan started laughing too.
“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Mickey demanded.
“Well, you got into the car.” Jules grinned. “Right?”
“I bet that’s not all he got into,” Duncan teased.
“Well, duh.”
“Fuck both of you,” Mickey growled. He refused to say anything else about it, and he looked to Alistair. He was hoping for a return to some semblance of professionalism.
“Well.” Alistair cracked a smile. “It’s nice to know you and Mr. Lorre are getting along so well.”
Mickey made a face.
Cold came in then, thankfully saving Mickey from dealing with any further nonsense. He was wearing an immaculate gray pinstripe three-piece suit, and there was a small bruise blooming beneath his left eye.
Mickey was concerned. “You okay, Boss?”
“Never better,” Cold replied briskly. “I apologize for my tardiness. A prior appointment ran longer than I expected.”
“You good?” Jules asked, his brows arched. Even if he knew what had happened, he seemed concerned.
Punctuality was one of Cold’s most famous virtues, and it was highly unusual for him to be late. The shiner he was sporting was also very concerning.
“Fine.” Cold took his seat at the head of the table.
“I don’t see Mr. Corman with you,” Alistair noted. “Am I to assume—”
“Assume nothing,” Cold snapped. He didn’t even turn his head to look at Alistair. “You may leave now.”
Alistair was visibly stung, but he said nothing. He got up as commanded, pausing only briefly to rest his hand on Cold’s shoulder as he passed by.
Cold didn’t flinch, but he still refused to acknowledge him.
Maybe it was Mickey’s imagination, but it sure did look like Alistair’s knuckles were swollen up like they would be after socking someone in the face.
He really didn’t understand what was up with those two.
Their relationship, whatever it was, was very private. Mickey had thought of Alistair as Cold’s mentor, guiding him through a life of crime and villainy and wearing expensive suits.
Anything more than that, Mickey had no idea. Duncan swore they were lovers, claiming he’d seen the two of them kiss once when they didn’t think anyone was around. Mickey didn’t care if they were fucking or not, but any sign of conflict made him uneasy.
Cold waited until Alistair left before he began, “The target is Delgado Ricci. He’s been the Luchesi family’s personal accountant for years, and he is an outspoken supporter of Matteo’s. Ricci was close to the Don and claims his choice to lead would have been Matteo, not Cristian.”
“So, naturally, Cristian wants him dead,” Duncan said.
“Yes.”
“We’ll need to track him for a few days. Figure out the best time to hit.” Duncan looked pleased to finally be included in the planning. “I can follow him around, see where he goes, and then—”
