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Jimmy had to force himself to get moving, grabbing his robe and then gathering up all the sticky bills. He wadded them into a bunch to take with him to the bathroom, shoving them into the pocket of the robe to count later. After shutting the door and getting the water going, he cradled his face in his hands and sobbed quietly. He collapsed on the floor by the tub, trying to keep his sounds of sorrow as discreet as possible.

His father was still rotting away in jail for a crime he didn’t commit, a fact that Cold had been kind enough to remind Jimmy of. He knew that Cold hadn’t meant to, but Jimmy had never felt more like a failure than right at that moment. He was no closer to freeing his father despite all the debt he had incurred, he hadn’t been able to keep a job for more than a few months, his bank accounts were all in the negative, his credit cards were maxed out, and his only friend was a crooked old loan shark.

He had literally just had sex for money with a ruthless criminal. His feelings were even more conflicted about what he had done because while he felt dirty, he had enjoyed it.

Every second of it.

And he already knew he was going to do it again. Again and again. Because right now, Roderick Legrand was the only hope he had of getting his life back on track. Ironic, really, since he was the one threatening Jimmy’s life if he didn’t pay up.

Jimmy sighed miserably, reaching into his pocket to dig out the cash, sniffling as he thumbed through the wad of bills. He frowned while he counted it. That couldn’t be right. He counted it again.

“Holy shit,” he breathed excitedly.

It was sixteen hundred dollars.

Cold had tipped him sixteen hundred dollars. Jimmy was giddy. He burst into laughter and hugged the money to his chest. He could buy groceries, real groceries. He could actually purchase fruit and vegetables and eat a real meal. He could pay his rent so he wouldn’t be kicked out of his apartment. Sure beat the hell out of the eighty-six dollars and nineteen cents he’d started the day with.

Chapter three

Jimmy went back to Cold’s bed after his shower, anxiously awaiting the gangster’s return. The hours ticked by in silence, and Cold worked tirelessly at the stack of ledgers in front of him and did not pay Jimmy a bit of attention.

Pulling the blankets up over himself, Jimmy stayed quiet and got comfortable. He didn’t dare ask permission to watch television or even order room service as his stomach rumbled. He spent his time looking around the room in search of any clues to the man he had chosen to fall into bed with.

He found very little.

The closet door was cracked and he could see several suits hanging inside, all still in plastic from the dry cleaner’s, with several pairs of shoes neatly arranged on the floor.

There was a briefcase by the desk, black and sleek, but no personal markings. Probably where Cold kept all those books he was scribbling in.

The ledgers.

Jimmy blinked as realization struck. That was why the cops couldn’t get any evidence on Cold. He was too smart to use any traceable electronic activity to organize his illegal operations. He was old school, using pen and paper. Those weren’t any old books. They were the foundation of the entire criminal empire that controlled Strassen Springs.

Feeling quite proud for putting it all together, Jimmy decided to keep his revelation to himself.

After all, it could just be a collection of crossword puzzles.

Jimmy snuggled into the pillows but tried to stay awake. This was supposed to be his big debut to prove himself to Boss Cold. Though the mob boss had already told him the deal was on, there were several hours left to play. Jimmy had to admit that despite his aching body, he was looking forward to another round.

The bed was too warm, however, and the pillows too soft. Jimmy fell asleep while Cold was still working, snoring lightly as he tugged all the blankets around him. At some point, he thought he felt the warmth of another body next to him. Groggily, he reached toward it, his arm finding a firm chest and clinging to it. He cuddled close, sighing contentedly. It had been so long since he’d slept next to someone. He could have sworn there was a hand resting on his forearm, but he was probably dreaming.

Jimmy didn’t wake again until there was a loud knock at the door. He felt sore but refreshed, stretching out his long legs with a groan, then frowned when he realized he was alone.

There was no sign of Cold. The briefcase and all the books were gone, and the clock on the bedside table said it was a few minutes after nine o’clock.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jimmy sat up. He stared at the door, hesitant to answer it. He was in Boss Cold’s hotel room. There was no telling who it might be. The knocking had become relentless, and Jimmy stumbled out of bed to peer through the peephole.

It was an older Hispanic woman, her face wrinkled up with worry, with her dark hair pulled up in a tidy bun and a cart full of silver-domed dishes in front of her.

Room service.

Food!

Jimmy opened the door, smiling brightly. “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” the woman replied, clearly upset. “I am so, so very sorry I’m late. I really didn’t mean any offense, I swear!”

“Late?” Jimmy frowned, confused. He glanced down the hallway and spied two members of Cold’s burly entourage posted by the elevator doors.