“I’m Madeline Queen, and I just saved your life,” she drawled. “Good thing Cold had us coming by to drop off a dead body he suddenly didn’t want anymore. You would have been corpse number two.”
That’s right, Mickey realized. The paramedics on Cold’s payroll were supposed to bring Mr. Ricci here. It was a solid plan, when the guy was still alive at least.
“The bullet nicked an artery, but it will heal,” she went on briskly. “If anyone had bothered trying to put a tourniquet on you, you wouldn’t have gone into shock.”
Mickey’s head still felt fuzzy, and he tried to focus on Queen. “You a doctor or somethin’?”
She smirked. “Not yet.”
Mickey sat up. “Okay, almost-doctor lady, I need to see Cold. Now.”
“I’m here,” Cold said, standing up from where he’d been sitting in a chair by the foot of the bed.
“Boss!” Mickey grunted as Queen pushed him back down. “Hey! Watch it!”
“Don’t move,” Queen ordered fearlessly. “You need to rest.” She turned to address Cold. “I’ve patched up his arm and given him some fluids to stabilize him, but he’s going to be weak for a few days.”
“I appreciate your help, Miss Queen,” Cold said politely.
“Money is an excellent way to show appreciation.”
“So it is.” Cold smirked. “Mr. Star will take care of you.”
“Thank you.” Queen shook Cold’s hand. “A pleasure, Mr. Legrand.”
“Always, Miss Queen.”
Queen shut the bedroom door behind her, leaving Cold and Mickey alone.
“I don’t care what she says, Boss,” Mickey said. “I’m fine. I’ll be up in no time.”
“Take Miss Queen’s orders as if they were mine,” Cold said firmly. “You’re no good to me dead.”
“Understood, Boss.”
“I’m glad you’re all right.” Cold approached the side of the bed. He hesitated before adding, “I was worried.”
“I’m good.” Mickey appreciated the concern, but he knew they had much bigger problems to worry about. “What’s going on? Anything on the second shooter?”
“No. Cristian is pleased Mr. Ricci is dead, and I was able to recover the ledgers, thanks to Miss Queen and her fellow paramedics. It will take some time to decipher them.”
“Written in some kinda secret code?”
“Something like that. It’s a cypher that Pym is writing a program to break as we speak. May take some time, but we’ll get what we need.”
“Good.” Mickey closed his eyes. “How long have I been out?”
“Only a few hours. It’s ten minutes after eight o’clock.”
“Fuck. Do we know what the hell happened? Who was the other shooter?”
“Cristian may have been testing us. You’re being credited for the kill, so it’s difficult to say if he had a hand in it or not.”
“What about his other brother? Luigi? Think he would have sent another shooter?”
“He would have just as much reason to kill Mr. Ricci as Cristian, although you’re well known for your success rate. It seems redundant to have sent someone else if he already knew what Cristian was doing.”
“If he knew.”
