“Thanks for the contribution, Officer Carville,” Mickey said coyly, tucking an envelope full of cash in his jacket. “Cold appreciates your punctuality.”
“It’s true,” Duncan piped up. “He does love when people are punctual. It might be his favorite thing.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Carville snapped. “You just make sure he knows it’s all there.”
Cold usually handled police collections personally, but he’d said he had something urgent come up that needed his attention and sent Mickey and Duncan to pick it up instead. The police paid Cold to keep all of their nasty business private, and there were at least ten crooked cops who paid hefty dues in exchange for his silence.
This money didn’t touch any Luchesi hands. The money, and the power that came with it, was all Cold’s.
“Will do,” Mickey promised, giving a mocking salute as he headed back to his car with Duncan in tow. They got in the car, and he passed the money to Duncan. “Count it.”
“Don’t trust him?” Duncan put on his seatbelt before accepting the envelope.
“Not as far as I can throw him,” Mickey replied, eyeing Carville all the way back to his police cruiser. They’d met in the parking lot of an old factory not far from where Mickey used to live with his grandfather.
As soon as Carville was gone, Mickey cranked the car and started driving back into the city.
“We’re good,” Duncan confirmed, handing the envelope back to Mickey. “It’s all there.”
“Good. Cold said to come right back to the club.”
“Any idea what that urgent business was all about?”
“No.”
“Huh.” Duncan frowned. “Just figured you’d know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mickey quirked his brows.
“Just, you know, you guys talk more than me and him do.” Duncan shrugged. “You’re always hanging out.”
“It’s called working.”
“Right, right.”
Mickey didn’t know what Duncan was trying to insinuate, and he didn’t feel like pushing. He wanted to get back to Cold and deliver the cash. If he needed to know what was so urgent, Cold would tell him.
Feeling his phone vibrate, he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open when he saw it was Jules. “Hey. Just finished up.”
“Good,” Jules rumbled. “Cold would appreciate it if you made one more stop.”
“Sure. Where?”
“Quickie Fuel on Fifth.”
“Got it.” Mickey knew the place, and the owner was one of Cold’s informants who also paid for protection.
“He’s probably gonna be short,” Jules warned.
“Does he need some encouragement?”
“Nah, nothin’ like that. He’s a friend. Be nice.”
“You got it.”
“I’m just saying,” Duncan suddenly piped up when Mickey hung up the phone. “I don’t get to go to all the same meetings you do. You and Cold and Jules and Crybaby. And ugh, Jerry. I mean, come on. Even that kid Pym gets to meet with him!”
“When Cold needs you, he’ll let you know,” Mickey said firmly.
