Page 94 of Cold Hard Cash

“Oh, trust me,” Cold said maliciously, “he sleeps in my bed just fine.”

Augustus’ hand twitched as if he was going to reach for his gun again. He turned around, stalking toward the door.

“Have a lovely afternoon, Detective.” Cold chuckled, watching Augustus storm off. His eyes moved back to Jimmy. “That… was impressive.”

“Thanks,” Jimmy said shyly, pretty sure his head was about to pop off from the massive jolt to his ego.

Cold moved back to the bed so he could touch Jimmy’s cheek. “You continue to surprise me, Mr. Poe.”

Jimmy blushed and leaned into Cold’s palm.

“Hey, you,” Maury sniped. “Mister Cold, sir?”

Cold frowned, turning his head to look at Maury.

“I say sir outta the respect you’re due. But uh, yous and I gotta have a little chat,” Maury said, his bushy brows scrunching up.

“Do we now?” Cold seemed amused.

“Yeah, we sure fuckin’ do.” Maury was about to open that big mouth of his and get himself into a whole heap of trouble.

But then there was yet another flurry of activity out in the hall. The Gentlemen greeted a rushing blur of heels and glitter, and Rowena could be heard screaming, “Where the fuck is he?”

She was at the door now, her face red from crying, hands over her heart as she sobbed, “Oh my God! I was so worried! I heard you had been shot, and, and, my fuckin’ God! Look at you, you poor thing!”

Jimmy sighed, smiling gently. “I’m okay, really! Just a scratch!”

Rowena came bounding across the room, sniffling. “I was worried fuckin’ sick!”

“Seriously, I’m fine!” Jimmy insisted, blinking in surprise as Rowena went right by him and crawled into bed beside Dario.

No one looked more stunned than Dario himself as he wrapped his good arm around Rowena’s shoulders. “Hey, come on now. I’m all right.”

“You saved Jimmy’s life.” Rowena ran her long nails through Dario’s hair. “You’re a hero, Dary.”

“Big damn hero,” Dario agreed, grinning dopily. He looked as if he had died and gone to heaven, save for knowing Cold was right there glaring at him.

Cold did not look particularly pleased with Rowena fawning all over Dario, but he said nothing to them. He looked back to Jimmy instead. “Ready to go home?”

“Home? You mean your house?” Jimmy clarified.

“I mean exactly what I said,” Cold said simply. “In light of recent circumstances, your apartment is not safe. For the foreseeable future, you’ll be staying with me.” He tilted his head curiously. “Unless you have a problem with that?”

“Uh, no.” Jimmy cleared his throat. “No problem at all.”

“Hey, I got a big fuckin’ problem,” Maury interjected. “Jimmy got fuckin’ shot while you was supposably watchin’ out for him, in case you already forgot.”

Cold’s pleasant expression faltered, and he wrinkled his nose at Maury’s objection. “Mr. Martine, is it? I’ll let you know when your opinion is needed. In the meantime—”

“Listen here, big, tall, and ugly.” Maury growled, shaking a thick digit at him. “You might be the giant ol’ king shit of Strassen Springs, but Jimmy is like my own fuckin’ kid.”

Cold looked over Maury with equal parts fondness and annoyance, as if he was the beloved family pet who had become incontinent in his advancing years and had just had yet another accident.

“If anything happens to him, ain’t enough Juleses or Tamerlanes or whoever the fuck else to save you from the likes of me,” Maury went on, his stout frame shaking and sweating. “I’ll jam my crowbar so far up your ass, you’ll be able to open your mouth and pop nails outta walls, you hear me?”

“While that’s a very colorful picture of violence that you’re painting, I’m—”

“I ain’t done yet. If your goons do manage to knock me off before I get t’you? I’ll haunt your fuckin’ ass. Ain’t gonna be none of that cute and fuzzy Patrick Swayze singing shit about Henry’s wives neither.”