That’s when Mickey knew exactly who this well-dressed stranger was. He almost couldn’t believe it, and it sounded insane to even think it.
He was standing in the presence of a mob legend.
Though he wasn’t a made man because he lacked the proper Italian heritage and was rumored to have obscene sexual interests, this man was a notorious murderer and served as a captain to the Luchesi family. It was said he’d been killing for them since he could crawl, and he was a heartless fiend. So feared for his merciless and swift wrath, no one even dared speak his name.
He was only known as Cold.
“You’re Cold,” Mickey whispered in awe.
“Roderick Legrand,” the man said with a tip of his hat. “This is my associate, Julian Price. Jules, say hello.”
“Hey,” the big man grunted.
Mickey’s mind began to race. This didn’t make any sense. Cold worked for the Luchesi family, but he’d just killed some of their own. He didn’t understand what was going on.
“That was quite some shooting,” Cold praised. “You’re very fast. I’m impressed, Mr. Tamerlane.”
“How do you—”
“Know your name?” Cold cocked his head. He was so relaxed for someone who had killed a man moments ago, and the smallest little smile curled his lips. “It’s my job to know everything, Mr. Tamerlane. That includes knowing our city’s blossoming death dealers.”
“Heard you’re a hit man that don’t miss,” Jules said.
“Not yet,” Mickey said warily.
“You also have a reserved table at Legends,” Cold said, “and you’re known to frequent Slick Rick’s.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mickey challenged. “And what’s that to you?”
“Nothing much, except you and I have more in common than you might realize.”
“Sorry. You’re not my type.”
Cold snorted. “My point is that you and I are looked down on by the family for the same reasons. I imagine that’s why you came here looking to kill Tony Luchesi? Perhaps over some disagreement fueled by his ever-so-charming homophobia?”
“So, it’s true.” Mickey ignored the questions. “You’re gay.” He looked at Jules, smirking. “What about you, big boy?”
“Nope,” Jules rumbled. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Yeah, it’s a real shame,” Mickey said dryly. “Always wanted to get it on with a Sasquatch.”
Jules actually laughed.
“You two can flirt later,” Cold scolded. “Business first.”
Mickey flinched. “Business?”
“Mr. Tamerlane, I’m wondering if you’d be interested in working for me.” Cold took a seat at the bar, and he waved Jules over.
Jules stepped up behind the counter to serve him, stepping over some blood as he reached for a bottle.
Cold gestured for Mickey to join him.
Mickey hesitated. They weren’t in the best part of the city, so the chances of the cops showing up here were slim, but he never liked hanging around his own handiwork for too long. It was risky. Cold didn’t seem concerned, and Mickey was curious to hear what he had to say.
Fuck it.
“If you can afford me.” Mickey sat down, watching Jules pour very carefully. He didn’t know if he could trust these men yet. “I require half now, half when the target is handled.”
