Noah grimaced. His shame cut through the adrenaline, and his stomach turned harder.
“Slut,” Roger whispered, winking down at Noah.
Noah stared at him and had to bite the inside of his cheek not to reply.
Mickey hadn’t moved, and his gun remained pointed right at Medina’s face.
“So,” Alistair went on, “you will have to forgive me if I take some precautions. I think you will find having to be patient for a little while longer much more agreeable than being dead.”
Medina retreated again. “Yeah. I got it.”
Mickey tilted his head back toward Alistair, asking, “No?”
“No, although that’s very kind of you to offer.” Alistair smirked.
“Just like old times,” Roger said wistfully. “I’m feeling all nostalgic.”
Mickey smiled.
It was like they were talking about a restaurant they all used to visit instead of killing people.
“Mace, if you’d be kind enough to take Medina somewhere comfortable so we can keep a close eye on him,” Alistair said. “I would appreciate it.”
“Of course, Mr. Star.” Mace smiled and reached out to grab Medina’s arm. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Don’t dawdle too long. Frida is preparing a spectacular dinner for us.” Alistair patted Noah’s shoulder. “That reminds me. She’s asked for your assistance.”
“Me?” Noah squeaked.
“Yes, you.”
Noah didn’t even think he could stand up now, much less cook something. He was suddenly gasping, and he realized he’d been holding his breath. He really thought he’d been about to watch someone die. Even if that person was Medina, that fucker, Noah was glad it hadn’t happened.
Mickey withdrew once Mace took Medina away, and he returned his gun to its holster. With a crooked smile like he hadn’t been about to murder someone, he asked, “So, what’s for dinner?”
“I… I don’t know,” Noah stammered.
He was still trying to figure out if ‘somewhere more comfortable’ was gangster code for sleeping with the fishes or something.
“Oh.” Mickey seemed disappointed, and he sat back down. “That’s fine. I’ll eat just about anything.”
“Yeah, you will,” Roger purred.
Noah blinked slowly.
Wow. Yeah. This was his life now apparently. Listening to killers flirt and talk about dinner.
Alistair touched Noah’s cheek. “Are you all right, dear Noah?”
“Oh, dandy.” Noah forced a smile. “This is just fuckin’ great.” He cleared his throat, correcting himself, “Freakin’ great.”
Alistair looked very proud of him.
“So, you two.” Roger wagged his eyebrows and crawled into Mickey’s lap. “Mixing business with pleasure, eh?”
“You’re hardly in a position to judge,” Alistair teased. “But yes, I suppose I am.”
“You two look adorable together,” Roger purred. “I’m very happy for you.”
