“That is to say they’re busy,” Cold amended.
Jules nodded in understanding.
“That’s it?” Duncan shifted in his chair. “We got a new hit Mickey isn’t even gonna take at a time and place you already picked out? Maybe a text would have been easier? I mean, what exactly are we supposed to do now? Shop for curtains for the safe house?”
Cold leaned forward, and his eyes grew icy. “My apologies, Mr. Gill. Do you feel that I’ve wasted your precious time?”
Duncan shrank back. “No, Boss. Not at all. I’m just, you know, confused.”
“What is it about this very simple plan that is mystifying you, Mr. Gill?”
“Nothing.” Duncan tried to make himself smaller. “I’m good, Boss. Really.”
Mickey stared at Duncan as if he’d lost his mind. He must have to openly question Cold like that. He looked back to Cold, trying to gauge his expression.
At the moment, Cold seemed mildly annoyed and not murderous, so that was good at least.
“Shut your mouth hole,” Jules advised Duncan with an all too friendly smile. He turned his head. “Mickey, you good?”
“Golden,” Mickey replied.
“That’s all, Gentlemen,” Cold declared. “Please. Hurry along before I take up another second of your valuable time.”
Duncan grimaced, but he didn’t dare say anything. He scrambled out of the office with Jules hot on his heels, doubtlessly about to give him a stern lecture about the virtues of silence.
Knowing Jules, not many of the words would have more than two syllables and most of them would start with ‘fuck.’
Mickey stood to go after them, but he noticed Cold wasn’t moving.
He was still seated and was reaching up to gingerly touch his bruised cheek. He looked tired, suddenly decades older in an instant. His icy armor had melted for a moment, and he seemed lost.
“You and Alistair okay, Boss?” Mickey hesitated to ask, but he’d never seen Cold like this before.
“Me and Alistair?” Cold echoed flatly, and he snorted in amusement.
“Yeah, you and him.”
“Are we an item now?” Cold’s tone was sarcastic, and his armor was strapped right back into place.
“I don’t know what you guys are,” Mickey said honestly, “but I wanna make sure you’re okay.” He straightened himself up. “If he’s a problem, I need to know, Boss.”
“You’re a loyal man, Mr. Tamerlane,” Cold said after a moment. “I value that above all else. Thank you for your concern.”
“So, I don’t need to kill him?”
“Alistair does not agree with some of my plans and made his opposition known. That’s all.” Cold waved his hand. “He is outspoken, but he is loyal, like you. There is no problem, but if one should arise… you’ll be the first to know.”
“Sounds good, Boss.” Mickey turned to leave, but there was still a question nagging at him. He’d probably never have another chance to ask, and as much as he told himself he didn’t care, he was curious.
“So… are you two…?”
Cold smiled. Not a chilling smirk or a sly grin, but a smile that lit up his whole face. Damn, he was such a beautiful bastard.
“Well?”
“Mmm, careful,” Cold cautioned. “You’re going to make Roger jealous if he finds out you’ve been asking about my personal life.”
Wait, how the fuck didheknow?
