Well, too late to back down now.
“Do we need to go back to how your mother’s a sloppy whore again?” Mickey grinned. He felt a familiar tingle of adrenaline, and no matter how much his arm throbbed, he wanted to punch Salvatore right in his nasty face.
No, that would hurt his arm more.
He should shoot him.
There, now that was a good idea.
“Fuck you, you little fuckin’ snake,” Salvatore growled. “I got some unfinished business with him. Now fuck off.”
Mickey turned his head to call back to Roger. “You wanna talk to this fuck?”
“I’d rather stick rusty pins under my toenails,” Roger said cheerfully. “How’s that?”
“I think you need to go,” Mickey taunted.
“Fuckin’ move.” Salvatore grabbed Mickey’s arm righttherewhere he’d been shot.
It took every ounce of Mickey’s willpower not to show any sign of pain, and he had a gun pointed back at Salvatore’s head in a blink. “Let go before I drop you.”
“Cold?” Cristian snapped, gesturing toward the unfolding scene.
“Control your man.” Cold sounded bored.
“Or what?” Cristian countered.
“Or he’s going to get himself killed.” Cold’s expression hardened. “Maybe I’ll shoot him myself. Good friends don’t behave like this. I’ve already relieved Mr. Lorre of his financial obligations, and it doesn’t sound like he wants to chat. I would hate to ruin what we’ve worked so hard for because you can’t keep one disruptive man on his leash.”
“Salvatore,” Cristian snarled suddenly. “Back off. Now.”
Salvatore did not look pleased, but he let go of Mickey’s arm and stepped away. He threw a nasty glare toward Roger, warning, “I’m not done with you.”
“Well, he’s done with you,” Mickey challenged. “Go say hi to your mom for me.”
“Mr. Tamerlane,” Cold cautioned.
“Take care, Cold,” Cristian said shortly. “We’ll be in touch.” He and Stefano ushered Salvatore out, and the bar finally felt safe again.
“Fuckers,” Mickey spat under his breath.
“Can’t wait for them all to leave for fuckin’ good,” Jules agreed.
“Soon,” Cold soothed.
Roger slinked up to Mickey’s side and kissed his cheek. “My hero!”
“Get the fuck off me,” Mickey grumbled, instantly aghast and hating how his face got hot.
The bartender finally poked his head out from where he’d been hiding behind the counter. “Uh, am I good to open, Mr. Star?”
“Go ahead,” Alistair replied. “Everything is fine now.”
“Come along, Gentlemen.” Cold waved for them to gather back in the office. “We have much to discuss.”
As they filed inside, Mickey made a point not to sit next to Roger.
Cold took his place at the head of the table, and Alistair and Jules sat to his left and his right. Roger sat beside Alistair, and Mickey quickly took the chair next to Jules.
