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Cold stared. “He’s alive right now, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes, so generous.” Trev glowered. “You are just Mother fucking Theresa.”

Cold tilted his head, silently considering something for a few moments. His eyes flicked up to Roger and Mickey. “Please see Mr. Prospero to the guest quarters. Make sure he’s comfortable. Feel free to be… creative.”

Roger grinned. “You got it, boss.”

“Hey!” Trev watched helplessly as Roger and Mickey escorted Jupiter away. This wasn’t ending at all like he’d hoped except for maybe that Jupiter was still alive, but he didn’t have any other cards left to play. He turned back to snap at Cold, but was too startled when he found him standing right behind him instead of sitting. “F-fuck, you’re sneaky.”

Cold hummed. “You are truly free to leave whenever you’d like, Mr. Usher. I can provide you with a new car, additional cash, and?—”

“And Jupiter.”

“The car will be much more valuable.”

“Nope.” Trev popped his tongue. “Jupiter, please.”

“He’s worth that much to you?”

“Yes. And so is what he did for me. Maybe it’s not a big deal to you, but I don’t have a great history of people actually showing up when it comes to giving a shit about me.” Trev gestured to the room, startling even himself with his honesty and perhaps a side of bitterness. “Not all of us have big, fancy houses and a big ol’ mobster family to kiss our ass, okay?”

“Mr. Usher, I?—”

“What?” Trev barked, fearless as ever as he let his genuine rage take over. “You gonna try to tell me that you understand what it’s like growing up with fucking nothing? That you had to work so fucking hard to get where you are? Maybe we can even bond over our moms being such great friends?”

“Mr. Usher?—”

“Nope. Not done! Because you don’t know me. You don’t know shit about me! And if you think I’m gonna side with you just because you’re throwing your money around and trying to push some fancy crap at me, you’ve got?—”

“Mr. Usher.”

“What?”

Cold looked over Trev’s shoulder. “I thought you might want to know that Mr. Cusack just went by with what looked to be a bag of potatoes and a knife.” He clicked his tongue, mocking how Trev had done it earlier. “Might want to go see what that’s all about.”

“Fuck. Okay! And I will! But first—” Trev held up his finger and gave the lockbox a shake. “You want copies of these absolutely one of a kind photographs?”

“You already know I do. And you said no problem.”

“I am retracting that. There is a problem.” Trev’s brain spun. “Tell me why Juicy is here.”

“I can’t say.”

Trev scowled. “Can’t say or won’t? Because he said he was working a case for you.”

Cold just smirked.

The smirkiest smirk.

“Hey!” Jules popped in. “Did you guys see where that old geezer went?”

Cold pointed.

“Old fucker is fast,” Jules grumbled as he hurried down the hall.

“Me and my little box of photos are gonna go see what Juicy is doing.” Trev held up the lockbox. “But me and you are not done yet.”

“No, we are not.” Cold’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Good luck with the potatoes.”