“Right.” Crybaby was still grinning when she left, and she called back over her shoulder, “You holler if you change your mind!”
Mickey would absolutely not change his mind, and he fought to get comfortable. There wasn’t anything else he could do except rest now and think about what Cold had said.
They might have a rat in the house.
That wasn’t a good feeling, but he was sure none of the Gentlemen would betray Cold. Then again, he mused, Cold and Alistair had been fighting because Alistair didn’t like what Cold was doing. Maybe it was him.
Roger was their newest member, but he’d just gotten away from the Luchesi family. While it could be part of an elaborate ruse, Roger came off as way too spontaneous to be part of any complicated plan.
Jules had grown up with Cold, and he didn’t seem like the type to turn heel. Pym was only a kid, Jerry was fiercely devoted to Cold, and Crybaby didn’t seem like the turning type either.
Duncan…?
No. No way. Duncan was a nervous wreck lately, but he wouldn’t do something like that. It wouldn’t only be Cold he’d be betraying; it would be Mickey too.
He couldn’t fathom his friend doing that to him.
Still, he was left with a dreadful lump in his gut, and it was there the next morning when he woke up. He was weak, but he was able to get out of bed and walk downstairs to find Crybaby.
She was passed out on the couch with a box of pizza in her lap and a gun in her hand.
Cautiously, he whispered, “Hey, Crybaby.”
She jerked awake, her gun pointed at Mickey. “Huh?”
“Hey.” Mickey held his hands up. “Just me.”
“Right.” She lowered her gun and rubbed her eyes. “Hey. You ready to go?”
Mickey gestured to his shirtless torso. “We got any clothes here?”
“No. I’ll drive you over to your place so you can get cleaned up.”
“What time is it?”
“Hungry?” Crybaby offered the pizza box.
“I’m good.”
“It’s like ten. You slept for a while.”
“I’ll eat later. We’re supposed to meet Cold at Slick Rick’s by noon. Let’s get going.”
Crybaby shrugged and stuffed a slice of cold pizza in her mouth. “All right, let’s hit it.”
They took Crybaby’s truck, a 1950’s Ford that had seen better days, over to Mickey’s place. Mickey got a shower, a change of clothes, and checked in with Pops.
Pops was drowsy but made sure to scold Mickey for worrying him and tell him to thank Duncan for bringing him dinner.
“He’s a good boy,” Pops said with a yawn. “Why don’t you date him, huh?”
“I’m going to blame your pain killers for asking me that,” Mickey drawled, leaning down to kiss Pop’s forehead. “Get some rest, old man.”
“Is he not your type? Do you like bears?”
“How do you even know what that is?”
“We got cable now.”
