Page 42 of Cold Hard Cash

“Yes,” Jimmy said, his eyes closing. “My mother, she was murdered...” He laughed half-heartedly. “Well, I guess you know all about that, too.”

“Your father is currently serving in Westchester for the crime,” Cold said flatly.

“Wrongly convicted,” Jimmy said quickly, always fast to defend him.

“So says every man in prison,” Cold tutted.

“My father really is innocent. I know he didn’t kill my mother.”

Cold quirked his brows, his icy eyes ticking over the features of Jimmy’s face carefully. “You really do believe he’s innocent. How can you be so sure?”

“Because I was there,” Jimmy whispered with a shudder. “I saw the whole thing. I saw another man, the man who killed her, a man wearing a white coat.”

“You were there,” Cold repeated. It almost sounded like a question.

“Yes,” Jimmy confirmed miserably, “but no one believed me. Not the cops, not even Augustus. That’s why we don’t talk anymore. He never believed what I saw.”

Cold seemed to be thinking about something, silent for a long moment. “I believe you, Jimmy.”

“You do?” No one had ever believed him except Maury.

“Yes, I do,” Cold replied softly. “I’ve been able to survive this long because of my wits and my instincts. I can tell when someone is lying to me. You are not.”

“Well, I appreciate that, actually a lot, but...” Jimmy hung his head defeatedly. “That doesn’t help get my dad out of prison. That’s how I got into so much debt, you know, trying to get his case reopened.”

“It’s impressive.”

“What? That I blew that much money with nothing to show for it?” Jimmy bit out sourly, Cold’s previous comment from the other evening still carrying a sting.

“Your loyalty,” Cold corrected, his eyes scanning over Jimmy’s face as his hands began to roam, slowly moving to loosely curl at the base of Jimmy’s neck. “Any man would be lucky to have that kind of devotion.”

Jimmy was not expecting that response, his hands coming up to rest on top of Cold’s. His eyes fluttered. “Is that... is that what you want from me?”

“What do you want, Mr. Poe?” Cold countered, his thumbs gently rubbing over Jimmy’s throat.

“You,” Jimmy replied immediately, melting into his touch. He guided Cold’s fingers to move around his throat just under his jaw, tenderly holding his wrists. It was the same way they had held each other the first time they met in Jimmy’s apartment.

There was something so intimate about this. Cold literally had Jimmy’s life in his hands if he decided to be cruel, and Jimmy was totally submissive, offering himself over without question.

“I know you’re just using me,” Jimmy said softly, his voice cracking as he continued, “but... I don’t want this to stop.”

“Why?” Cold challenged.

“Because I’m using you, too,” he replied earnestly. He had never felt as wanted or satisfied as he did being in this man’s embrace. Nothing had ever soothed him like that beautiful voice, and he wasn’t ready to lose it. “I like... the things we do.”

Cold’s fingers flexed ever so slightly, purring, “Mmm, arrangements like ours have to be built on trust, Mr. Poe.”

“You don’t trust me?” Jimmy frowned.

“No,” Cold replied without hesitation.

“I trust you,” Jimmy said all too quickly.

“You shouldn’t,” Cold said flatly. “I’m not a good man.”

“I know.”

“And yet you still want to continue our little arrangement?” Cold looked thoughtful, his lips pursing together and a little wrinkle etching his forehead.