by K. L. Hiers
“I will kill whoever threatens the ones I love without hesitation. I will kill all of them to know that you are safe, and I would burn this fucking city to the ground before I let them take it from me. Do you understand, Jimmy?”
“Yes,” Jimmy whimpered as he grabbed Cold’s wrists. “I understand that you love me very, very much. And I love you, fuck, I love you, too.”
“Do you love me enough to forgive me?” Cold challenged, dragging his fingers up between Jimmy’s legs. “For the things I’m going to do?”
“For what you’ve done, for what you will do... yes. I forgive you.” Jimmy arched back into Cold’s lap with a soft sigh. “I will always forgive you as long as you don’t lie to me again. I need, I need to have a line... something that can’t be crossed.”
“As you wish,” Cold said. “With the exception of truths that I believe would directly harm our relationship, I will tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Mmm...” Jimmy smiled, sliding his hands down the sides of the tub. He caught himself admiring his ring, and he was suddenly struck with another pang of sadness.
“What is it?” Cold asked, ever perceptive.
“I was just thinking,” Jimmy replied thoughtfully, “that somewhere out there the Luchesis are probably having this same conversation with their wives or whoever. Promising them that they’ll do whatever it takes to protect them.”
“Including killing me,” Cold noted.
“Yes.”
“Don’t worry,” Cold chuckled, seemingly amused by Jimmy’s obvious concern. “They can make the same promises all they’d like, but there’s a very distinct difference that ensures my victory.”
“What?” Jimmy turned his head to look up at Cold, finding him smirking slyly.
“I’m smarter than they are,” Cold said confidently. “I have every possible variable accounted for and have planned for all the conceivable outcomes. There is no ending where I do not win.”
“Whatever it takes, right?”
“Exactly,” Cold confirmed, kissing Jimmy’s neck and gently rubbing his shoulders. “Now... relax for me, Mr. Poe. That’s an order.”
“Mmmm... yes, sir.”
Chapter Thirteen
The days leading up to Thirdsies’ deposition were busy, each one flying by in a blink. Dario was given a very strong verbal warning to keep his discovery about Charlie to himself, although he later broke under Rowena’s scrutiny. She reveled in her new knowledge and cursed out Cold for his deception.
He was not affected by her rage, calmly citing the need to keep the FBI fooled so that Charlie could maintain his position.
For the sake of continuing their charade successfully, Cold also decided that none of them would meet with Charlie until at least after the deposition was over. It was far too critical for the case, and Cold needed it to go smoothly.
What exactly it had to do with Charlie, Jimmy didn’t know, and Cold was evasive when he asked about it.
“Remember there are questions I will not answer,” Cold warned him, “because you don’t want to hear the truth.”
“Does this have something to do with the third witness?” Jimmy demanded, recalling that he was in protective custody with the FBI and that was the only connection he could think of.
“Yes.”
The one Cold was going to kill.
“Right,” Jimmy conceded quickly. “I don’t wanna know.”
They didn’t speak of it after that.
The remaining arrangements for the wedding were done over the phone and through email, confirming menus, flowers, and so on. Piece by piece, the wedding was coming together, and even though it was certainly going to be beautiful, Jimmy was dreading it.
The ring on his finger still hadn’t changed his answer; or rather, his lack thereof. He wanted to marry Cold with all of his heart, but he didn’t know if he was ready under these difficult conditions.
Jimmy put marital thoughts aside and instead focused on meeting with Christine Beccali today down at the city courthouse. Cold had the original recording of Thirdsies’ interrogation placed on a flash drive and let Jimmy hear it through his laptop while they were getting ready.
It was honestly heartbreaking.
Thirdsies had been so young at the time, and the two officers who questioned him had been exceedingly cruel, not to mention manipulative.
The officers didn’t let up for a second, even when Thirdsies started to cry and begged for them to stop. They threatened to lock Valdemar away without access to his medicine, all but telling a thirteen-year-old boy that they were going to kill his grandfather if he didn’t cooperate.
Thirdsies finally broke and told them that he saw Marco Luchesi leaving the safe house with Rufus Corman and Boss Cold hours before he was reported missing.
As soon as he gave them that information, he was released.
“On the streets, by the way,” Cold added when they were done listening. “They didn’t bother contacting social services or his grandfather. We found Thirdsies the next day hiding in a dumpster.”
“Hiding? What was he hiding for?”
“He thought I was going to kill him,” Cold replied bluntly, adjusting his tie.
“Would you have?” Jimmy asked without meaning to.
“No,” Cold said with a firm shake of his head. “Thirdsies was picked up when the safe house was raided. He was already a Gentleman by then, but I should have never left him alone. He was still only a child.”
“Wait, he was a criminal at thirteen?” Jimmy scoffed.
“He was a criminal at eight,” Cold corrected.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell was he doing when he was eight?”
“Arson,” Cold replied. “He’s a little bit of a firebug like his grandfather. Always had a knack for mixing things and making them blow up.”
“Jesus,” Jimmy muttered.
“His parents divorced when he was an infant, and his mother kicked him out when he came out as gay,” Cold explained. “His grandfather took him in, and they eventually came to work for me. I’d already left the Luchesi family by then, and I wasn’t going to turn away such talent.”
“Who was your first Gentleman?” Jimmy sat down on the edge of the bed to tie his shoes. “Jules?”
“Yes.”
“Of course,” Jimmy chuckled. “Your childhood bestie, right? Hmm. Then who was next?”
“Tamerlane. But he was just ‘Mickey’ then. Ex-Special Forces, gun for hire, always had a table at Legends.”
“The old gay bar?”
“Mmhmm. The Italians hated him for it, of course, but couldn’t deny his results. Two of the Luchesi crew tried to stiff him on a successful job, and he killed them. He and his partner came to me for protection.”
“Lorre?”
“No. This was some time before Lorre.”
“So, who was his partner? Oh! It wasn’t Pym, was it? Because that would be super weird.”
“Someone else,” Cold said evasively, offering his hand to help Jimmy off the bed. “Someone you will never meet.”
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Jimmy made a face as he stood up.
“Yes,” Cold replied, “and I wouldn’t ask Tamerlane about it. Seeing as how he killed him, it’s a bit of a sensitive subject.”
“He killed his own boyfriend?” Jimmy was instantly aghast.
“No, he killed his partner. To save me,” Cold explained with a fond smile. “Ah, but that’s a story for another time. We have to focus on the tale that we’re going to spin today for the judge.”
“What judge?” Jimmy huffed. “I thought this was just a deposition.”
“Change of plans. Christine filed a motion to exclude Thirdsies’ testimony, and now we’re going to court.”
“And why didn’t you tell me?”
“I only just found out myself when Christine called me this morning,” Cold said patiently. “We’ll play the tape for the judge, show that Thirdsies was clearly mani
pulated into saying that he saw me and Rufus leaving with Marco that night.”
“Except that he really did see you,” Jimmy pointed out.
“You’re not very good at this,” Cold snorted, pausing to scan over Jimmy’s suited frame. “I wonder if you need some additional motivation...”
Jimmy’s face immediately began to heat up, and he asked hesitantly, “Uh, what kind of motivation are you thinking exactly?”
There was a flash of mischief in Cold’s eyes as he ordered firmly, “Drop your pants and bend over the bed, Mr. Poe.”
“Right now?” Jimmy gasped in protest even as he was starting to unbuckle his belt.
“Right now, Mr. Poe.”
Jimmy’s neck was getting hot as he pulled his pants down and stretched over the bed. He was expecting a spanking, maybe Cold’s belt, squeaking in surprise when he felt Cold’s fingers at his hole instead.
“This is very small,” Cold was saying, his touch wet from lubricant and pressing something firm into Jimmy’s ass. “It shouldn’t be too uncomfortable.”
“What, what is that?” Jimmy demanded, groaning as he realized that he recognized the feeling. It was one of their toys, a sleek remote-controlled plug. “Oh, fuck.”
“Fuck, indeed,” Cold chuckled wickedly.
“Wait, you want me to go to court with this in?” Jimmy stood up with a moan, hating how good it felt when the plug shifted inside of him.
“Yes,” was Cold’s simple reply, slipping a hand into his pocket. No doubt tucking the remote away, the smug bastard.
“What happened to being so concerned about your case and making sure everything goes perfectly?” Jimmy snapped, grumpily pulling up his boxers to hide how hard he was starting to get.
“I suppose that just means you’re going to have to make sure you behave yourself and keep very quiet during court,” Cold said sweetly.
“And if I don’t?” Jimmy asked, unable to resist a challenge.
Cold’s response was to turn on the vibrations for the plug.
Jimmy groaned and nearly fell back on the bed. He glared defiantly at Cold, saying, “I’ll be sure to be very, very good then.”
“You’d best.”
Walking down the stairs with the plug was awkward and equally riveting. Every step made it shift a little inside of Jimmy, and he could tell that he was very flushed. His face felt like it was on fire, and he had the ridiculous fear that everyone who looked at him would know exactly what was happening to him.
Cold didn’t turn on the vibrations again, even as they got into the back of the limo to head downtown. He took Jimmy’s hand, calm as ever, petting the ring on his finger.
“Mmm, like looking at that, do you?” Jimmy asked, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt.
“I do,” Cold said proudly. “Shows everyone that you’re mine.” He leaned in close, whispering seductively in Jimmy’s ear, “Much like the plug inside you... but I can’t show everyone that, now can I?”
Lust lit up Jimmy’s loins, and he bit his lower lip hard enough to break skin as all sorts of lewd ideas cycled through his mind. “No, sir. No... that’s, that’s just for you.”
“Just for me,” Cold confirmed, kissing Jimmy’s hand with a smug smirk.
When they arrived at the courthouse, Jimmy had to tuck his hard cock up into his waistband to hide it. The damn plug made him twitch, and he nearly stumbled, having to pause mid-step.
“Are you all right, Jimmy?” Cold asked casually.
“Fine,” Jimmy grunted, tossing Cold a quick glare as he adjusted himself. He didn’t know how he was going to make it through this meeting.
Cold was calm as ever as he took Jimmy’s arm to lead him inside. The crowds of reporters at the doors were screaming questions and wild accusations, Jimmy ducking his head down as Cold fearlessly blazed right through them.
Christine was waiting in the lobby to wave them through security, and Thirdsies and Valdemar were hovering around the corner outside the first row of courtrooms. They were wearing suits, and Jimmy had honestly never seen them so spiffed up before.
Thirdsies looked wide-eyed and extremely uncomfortable, his spindly frame hunched until Cold approached. He stood up straight, reaching for Cold’s hand and shaking it eagerly. “Hey, Boss!”
“Valdemar, Thirdsies,” Cold greeted cordially, meeting Thirdsies’ troubled gaze with a stern stare of his own. “You’re going to do fine.”
“Right! Yes!” Thirdsies nodded frantically. “Miss Beccali has been talkin’ to me and yeah, I’m fine. I’m good, I’m golden, I got this.”
Valdemar squeezed Thirdsies’ arm, murmuring, “Take a breath, son. His Coldness is gonna think you’re slipping.”
“Got it,” Thirdsies said, taking a deep breath as instructed and smiling weakly.
Jimmy tugged on his tie, not sure if he or Thirdsies was more miserable right at that moment. The plug was a very helpful reminder to hold his tongue, but God, it was making him ache.
Christine eyed Jimmy skeptically as she asked, “You feeling okay, Mr. Poe?”
“Oh, just peachy,” Jimmy grumbled bitterly. He watched Cold’s hand slide very purposefully into his coat pocket, quickly amending, “I’m fine. Really, thank you.”
“Good boy,” Cold whispered in Jimmy’s ear, careful to lean in close so no one else heard him.
Jimmy wondered if his belt buckle could rust from all the pre-cum potentially leaking from his throbbing cock where it was pressed against his waistband.
Christine glanced at her watch, briskly announcing, “Let’s go. Hearing starts in five minutes.”
“And the judge?” Cold inquired.
“Judge Del Rio,” Christine replied with a smirk.
Jimmy could tell that Cold was pleased with that answer, and he followed closely as Christine led the charge into the courtroom.
The bailiff and court reporter were already present, and Blalock and Champignon were seated at the plaintiff’s table.
Blalock stood up to greet them and paid special attention to Thirdsies. “Good morning, everyone. Good morning, Mr. Valdemar. I’ve been very interested in speaking with you—”
“When you’d like to speak to my client, you can contact my office,” Christine cut in quickly.
“Been hiding out for a while, huh?” Champignon suddenly piped up, staring Thirdsies down cruelly. “I bet you’re just itching to go see your boyfriend. What’s his name again? Pym?”
Thirdsies growled, a low and feral sound that didn’t even sound human. He looked ready to jump up and tackle Champignon down to the floor.
“Who Mr. Valdemar is seeing is not relevant to this hearing,” Jimmy said firmly. “If you’re trying to provoke a negative response from our client, I’ll file a formal complaint with the FBI for gross misconduct. This is a courtroom, not an arena for your personal interrogation.”
Cold was beaming smugly and Christine smirked as she quipped, “What he said.”
“That’s not necessary,” Blalock said quickly. “Please disregard Mr. Champignon’s remarks. I’m sure he’s only trying to be, eh, friendly.”
Jimmy flinched as he sat down at the defendant’s table next to Cold and Christine, a faint tremor of vibrations rumbling away inside of him. He wasn’t sure if this new stimulation was meant to be a reward or a punishment. He slid his fingers through his hair and leaned back in his chair as he struggled to find a comfortable position.
Cold was nearly motionless despite what his hand had been up to mere moments ago, tense and perched in his chair like a tiger about to pounce. His prey was Stephen Blalock, sizing him up like a wounded gazelle and silently thinking of ways to eat him, bone and all.
Jimmy could tell the silent threat was bothering Blalock. He watched the man fumble with his notes and then his phone, scattering the first and nearly dropping the latter as he tried to do anything to avoid Cold’s gaze.
The judge’s door opened and in walked a heavily painted woman who smiled like a shark. The bailiff
puffed out his chest and called out in a booming voice, “All rise for the Honorable Judge Del Rio!”
Jimmy stood up too quickly and his body clenched down on the plug, causing him to squeak quietly. He swore he heard Cold chuckle, and he wanted to hit him.
“Hello, all.” Del Rio sat down at the bench and waved her hand. “Good morning. Please, be seated. Now, Miss Beccali, if you’d be kind enough to get us started.”
“Yes, your honor,” Christine said politely. “The defense is asking to remove Francis Von Valdemar III’s prior testimony from the record. It was taken under severe duress, and Mr. Valdemar is ready to recant his previous statement.”
“Your honor,” Blalock argued, “this motion would be harmful to the prosecution’s case, and the defense’s implication that Mr. Valdemar’s statement was taken under duress is simply untrue. The original transcript clearly shows—”
“It is nothing more than a redacted fabrication that does not accurately tell the story of the abuse Mr. Valdemar sustained,” Christine cut in viciously, handing a copy to the bailiff for Del Rio to read. “Your honor, you can clearly see how concerning the amount of redactions are.”
“That transcript was as accurately recorded as every other single interrogation conducted by SSPD officers—”
“If that’s true, then I fear for anyone hoping for justice within this city,” Christine scoffed disgustedly.
“It’s unfortunate we don’t have the original recording to compare.” Blalock smiled confidently. “Always disappointing how things like that are lost.”
“Good thing I have a copy!” Christine winked, smiling sweetly as Blalock’s jaw went slack. She held up a familiar flash drive and stated firmly, “Your honor, for your consideration, I am also submitting Roderick Legrand’s personal copy of the interrogation recording.”
“How the hell?” Champignon snarled.
“Watch your language in my courtroom, Mr. Champignon,” Del Rio warned, accepting the flash drive from the bailiff and plugging it into her laptop. “Let’s have a listen.”
“This is extremely unorthodox, your honor,” Blalock argued stubbornly. “We have no way to know that this hasn’t been doctored or tampered with—”