Chapter 1

Eighty-six dollars and nineteen cents.

Jimmy Poe counted it all out, staring down at the money on his counter in dismay. It wasn’t enough, not even close.

He’d lost his job at the grocery store that morning because he’d been over an hour late for the third time already that week. Sixteen out of the twenty days he was scheduled to work this month he’d either been late or called off.

Too many absences, too many tardies, his manager had told him. He was fired.

Jimmy had begged, desperate for one more chance. He’d been meeting with his father’s attorney to hopefully get a new trial soon and lost track of time. It would never happen again, not ever, he’d pleaded.

His manager was not moved in the slightest, giving him his last check and quickly showing him the door. Defeated and sullen, Jimmy had cashed the measly check and returned home only to find more bad news awaited him.

Rent was overdue, had been for some time, and an eviction notice greeted him on his apartment door. He lightly banged his head against the frame, groaning loudly and fighting back a wave of tears. Today had easily been one of the worst days of his entire life.

And he still had one more errand to run, the worst one of all.

He had to go explain why he couldn’t make a payment this month to his loan shark. Considering he hadn’t paid last month, well, he didn’t expect the conversation to go very well.

Now, staring at his eighty-six dollars and nineteen cents, he sighed miserably, then looked about his tiny apartment with a sad frown. He’d already pawned anything of value weeks ago to buy groceries. He didn’t even own a television anymore, much less a cell phone. He’d checked his ratty sofa twice for loose change and even down in between the cushions of his recliner.

He was so fucked.

Jimmy scraped the money off the counter, every last penny, and carefully tucked it all away into his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he headed out to see Maury, praying he’d find him in a generous mood.

Maurice Martine was a shark with a legendary reputation. Maury the Mouth, people called him, known for being quite chatty and for his long, wide lips. Once upon a time, he’d also been known to be pretty fierce with a crowbar if payment didn’t arrive in a timely manner.

In his golden years now, he was a tad tamer, and Jimmy had known him since he was a child. Maury was still a bit rough around the edges, but he was the only friend Jimmy had.

Maury had been the only one to support him after his father was arrested, the only other person who believed he was innocent.

It was a shock to find Maury nearly in tears and wringing his hands when Jimmy arrived at his downtown pawn shop. “Hey, kid. We gotta talk.”

“Look, I know I’m a tiny bit behind,” Jimmy said, biting his lip anxiously, “but I can give you like twenty bucks? Maybe thirty? I’ve just gotta make sure I can get some ramen or something while I look for another job and—”

“Thirty bucks? Come the fuck on, kid!” Maury groaned, smacking Jimmy upside the back of his head. “You’re supposed to pay me a grand a month! Thirty is a fuckin’ joke!”

“Ow!” Jimmy yelped, rubbing his scalp where Maury had popped him. He pouted, protesting, “Hey, I’m really trying!”

“Listen, kid,” Maury said, still visibly upset. “Listen fuckin’ good. Cold’s bought me out. The whole block. I can’t... I can’t gives you no more extensions. He wants his money, and he wants it now.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened, his breath seizing in his throat.

Roderick Legrand—Cold.

Better known as Boss Cold, a mob ruler who owned practically every inch of Strassen Springs. Ruthless, savage, and too smart for the cops to ever pin anything on him, whether drugs, gambling, whatever. If it was illegal, it didn’t happen within city limits without his blessing.

“But... it’s...” Jimmy gawked, quickly doing the math in his head. “I owe you over a hundred thousand dollars! I-I don’t have it! You’ve been letting me make payments for months! I’ve been trying!”

“No, kid.” Maury shook his head, sighing heavily. “Try a quarter of a million bucks. Cold’s hit all outstanding accounts with a penalty. You gotta pay up, or he’s gonna start breaking bones. Okay?”

Jimmy felt faint, his head shaking frantically. “I don’t... I don’t have anything.” Tears were fighting to escape as he collapsed on Maury’s rickety sofa and held his face in his hands. Despair was taking over, a breath away from sobbing as he gasped, “I already sold my car last year, I just lost my job, I’m about to be evicted from my apartment. I don’t even have a hundred dollars to my name. I have absolutely nothing.”

Maury twisted his fingers anxiously, saying, “Well... there is something.”

“What?”

“How much do you know about Boss Cold?”

“Not much,” Jimmy said, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Uhhh... he was a captain in the Luchesi family, that’s when he got the nickname Cold. Then he broke off and started his own gang, ran the Luchesis all off, took over.”

“And?”

“I haven’t exactly looked him up on Wikipedia, Maury,” Jimmy mumbled.

“He’s gay,” Maury whispered in a hushed tone, glancing around as if someone actually might be listening to their conversation. He looked triumphant, as if somehow this revelation solved the problem.

“So?” Jimmy held out his hands, not making the connection.

“So you’re one of them multi-sexuals, right?”

Jimmy flushed, stammering, “Y-yeah, I’m bisexual, still not understanding what any of this has to do with me owing Boss Cold an absurd amount of money.”

Maury came over and sat down next to Jimmy, the sofa squeaking in complaint from the added weight. “There’s a rumor, okay, that Cold will let people work off their debt,” he said excitedly. “You get me?”

Jimmy stared dumbly, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“You work it off by gettin’ him off, okay?”

“Oh, God! No!” Jimmy was instantly aghast, shaking his head. What Maury was suggesting was prostitution. He felt dirty all over even thinking about it. “I-I can’t do that!”

“Kid, you’re real pretty, and right now that’s the only fuckin’ thing you got goin’ for you. When Cold’s people come lookin’ for their money, I gotta know what to tell them.”

“You tell them, you tell them to give me more time!” Jimmy pleaded, reaching for Maury’s hands. “Please, Maury. I can’t, I can’t whore myself out like that. Crap, I just... I can’t do it.”

“Kid, this is probably your only chance,” Maury insisted, patting Jimmy’s hand. “I’ve known your family a long time. Your old man used to fix up my kids whenever they had a runny nose or a fever, wouldn’t take a dime. That’s s’why when you came to me for help, I helped, but—”

“Then help me now!” Jimmy cried, frantic and angry.

“I fuckin’ can’t help you no more,” Maury snapped, frustrated. “This is gonna end one of two ways, kid. Either on your back in Cold’s bed or on your back in your fuckin’ coffin.” He stood up, brushing away Jimmy’s hands, snorting, “You pick.”

Eighty-six dollars and nineteen cents.

Jimmy kept counting it out in his head, sniffing softly. “I don’t know, I just... I don’t know what to do.”

Maury clapped a comforting hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, his long mouth twisting up into a smile. “Hey, look. I’ll... I’ll try talkin’ to ‘em. Maybe I’ll tells ‘em you’ve gone all mentally irregular and can’t pay or somethin’.”

“Thanks,” Jimmy mumbled, laughing half-heartedly. “I appreciate that.”

“Keep your fuckin’ thirty bucks, go get a good meal,” Maury suggested. “I’ll come see you if I hears anythin’.”

“Thanks, Maury,” Jimmy said, getting to his feet and pulling Maury into a tight hug.

“Take care of yourself, kiddo,” Maury sighed, slapping Jimmy’s back and affectionately patting his cheek as they parted. “I’ll sees ya ‘round.”

Jimmy bid farewell and started back home, his head hanging low. Maybe he’d treat himself to pizza, something good for his last meal since Boss Cold was probably going to murder him soon. He laughed miserably to himself. This day had gone from bad to worse to an absolute nightmare in only a few hours.

He tried to stay optimistic. After all, nothing else could possibly happen, right?

Fumbling for his keys as he walked down his hall, he soon realized he didn’t need them. His front door was already open, stopping him in his tracks with his pulse beginning to thump in his ears.

Crap.

He slowly walked through the open doorway, gasping when he saw a strange man on his sofa. He had certainly seen the man’s picture on the news before, recognizing him in an instant.

“Hello there, James Poe. I don’t have a habit of making house calls,” Boss Cold rumbled, his voice a deep purr, “but I was reviewing my latest acquisitions and considering the amount of your outstanding balance... mmm, I felt it required a personal visit.”

Jimmy clutched his keys to his chest, staring dumbly in terror.

Roderick Legrand, Boss Cold, was stretched out across Jimmy’s couch with his feet kicked up over the back, his arms tucked behind his head. He wore a dark blue three-piece suit, a long navy blue trench coat, and black leather gloves. His shoes were expensive, his tie was definitely silk, and a long scarf was woven around his neck.

Cold looked like a napping cat, relaxed but every muscle was a bundle of coiled danger, ready to strike at any second.

Dangerous, and wow, beautiful. His lips were made for sin, and those eyes of his were sure to kill Jimmy quicker than anything. They were so blue and piercing that Jimmy felt sure the gangster could count the pennies in his pocket right through the denim.

“Uhhh,” Jimmy sputtered, his keys jingling in his nervous hands. Cold’s mugshots did him a great disservice. He didn’t think he had seen anyone that was so handsome in person. Maybe on television or on a magazine cover, but not face to face, not right there on his sofa. “I... uhh...”

Cold glanced around, giving Jimmy a reprieve from his icy gaze, musing, “Can’t imagine that you’ll be able to make a payment today, and after a quick little look around? I already know you don’t have anything to offer as collateral. I imagine whatever you had of value is in Maury’s pawn shop, mm?”

“Look, uh, Mr. Cold, sir?” Jimmy began. “Listen. I’ve been having a really, really bad day. And you don’t care, right, I totally get that. But please. I just lost my job today, and, and I’ve been really trying—”

The floor creaked behind him.

“Allow me to introduce you to my associate,” Cold chirped, cocking his head to the side as he looked over Jimmy’s shoulder. “This is Julian Price. Jules, this is Mr. Poe. Say hello.”

A giant hand curled around the back of Jimmy’s neck and he gasped softly, a deep voice greeting in an all too friendly tone, “Hi.”

Jimmy squeaked quietly in panic, smiling stupidly as he turned his head to gaze up into the terrifying visage leering over him.

Jules Price, Cold’s top enforcer and living proof that Bigfoot did exist and had consummated with humans.

Today sucked so much.

“Jules?” Cold said, his tone far too cheerful. “Will you please give Mr. Poe some encouragement to be a bit more timely with his payments?”

“Gladly,” Jules grunted, his fingers tightening and dragging Jimmy toward the stove.

Jimmy was helpless in Jules’ iron grip and he was certain that kicking and struggling would be utterly useless. But damn if he didn’t try anyway. Especially when Jules lit the stove and got the burner going.

Jules was going to burn him. He was going to freaking burn his hand!

“Wait, wait, please!” Jimmy screamed, wiggling frantically as he tried to pull his hand out of Jules’ giant paws.

Cold watched impassively, not affected by Jimmy’s cries. He glanced at his nails as if debating the merits of a manicure. He was so very handsome; a total and complete bastard, but an especially attractive one.

Jimmy was desperate, and he definitely did not want Jules Price to burn his hand or any other part of his body. He had no job, no money, and he was all out of options.

His body really was all he left.

“Wait!” Jimmy shouted, snapping his head around to look at Cold. “We, we can work something else out!”

“I’m afraid we’re far, far past that point,” Cold drawled, bored. “Empty promises don’t have any cash value, Mr. Poe. Take your punishment like a good boy, and—”

“Me! You can have me!” Jimmy yelled when he felt the heat of the flame warming up the tips of his fingers. “I’ll get you off, I’ll freakin’ get you off, please, I’ll do whatever you want!”

Cold’s brow arched curiously, calling out, “Jules, hold up.”

Jules pouted but pulled Jimmy’s hand back. Jimmy had never seen someone look so disappointed before.

Cold slowly swung his legs off the sofa in one fluid motion, his feet hitting the carpet as he rose to approach and strolled over to Jimmy with a strange smirk playing over his lips. He came close, so close that Jimmy could smell his cologne and see the splash of silver glittering through his dark hair.

“I’ll... I’ll do whatever you want,” Jimmy offered nervously, fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides.

“Whatever I want?” Cold echoed.

“Maury said... uh, that maybe, you’d be interested...?” Jimmy’s voice was almost a squeal, Jules’ forearm tightening around his neck. “That I could work off my debt... by... getting you off?”

Oh, Jimmy felt like a complete and total fool for saying it out loud. He couldn’t read Cold’s expression, not at all, and he could hear Jules chuckling faintly behind him. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe Maury was wrong.

“Tell me, Mr. Poe,” Cold purred, his eyes scanning over Jimmy’s body from head to toe, “do you want to... get me off?”

“I want to... do whatever keeps you from burning my fingers off,” Jimmy replied dumbly, not sure how to answer the question honestly.

“No, no, no,” Cold said, shaking his head, gesturing for Jules to release him. He slid his gloved fingers over the redness around Jimmy’s neck, lightly pressing down as he drew him close. His voice dropped even deeper, husky and seductive, slowly asking again, “Do you really... want to get me off?”

It wasn’t fair for anyone to sound that sexy, and Jimmy shivered all over from the cool leather touching his skin. Cold’s eyes were so pretty, and that smirk stretching out his lips was downright wicked. Of all the mob bosses in the world to give his body to, at least this one was ridiculously gorgeous.

Jimmy’s hands came up to instinctively rest on Cold’s wrists, and he nodded. “Yeah.”

Cold flinched at Jimmy’s touch, and Jules shifted uncomfortably behind him. Jimmy didn’t understand, but it felt like he had done something wrong. Cold didn’t move away, and Jules didn’t try to set him on fire again, so he remained as he was.

Cold leaned closer still, his eyes studying Jimmy’s lips while a gloved thumb slowly traced over his chin.

Lashes fluttering as his heart thumped heavily in his chest, Jimmy inhaled sharply. He didn’t know how to define this feeling, but the way Cold held his neck, firmly yet so tenderly, was making his knees weak.

Jimmy couldn’t recall any other time he had been so scared in his life. This man before him was a criminal, a murderer, and a monster. But there was something electric burning between them, a sensation that sent warmth down below his belt and made his mind glaze over. He was completely captivated, the adrenaline rushing through him causing every inch of his body to tingle in anticipation.

Jimmy didn’t know what was crazier; that Boss Cold might be about to kiss him, or that he actually wanted him to.

“Let’s have a little chat, Mr. Poe,” Cold said, breaking the spell as he released him and strolling back into the living room. He beckoned Jimmy to follow with a finger, Jules grabbing him by his shoulders and pushing him along.

“Here’s the deal,” Cold announced, stretching across the sofa like before, his feet now finding their place on the coffee table. “Because I am such a benevolent criminal, I’ve decided to accept your offer. Let’s say, eight hours a night? From nine o’clock in the evening until five o’clock in the morning you will belong to me. Since you told me that you lost your job, I’m sure you have oodles of free time.”

Shoved down into the recliner by Jules, Jimmy stared awkwardly at Cold as he listened to his demands. His pulse was still racing away, but it was easier to stay focused when the gangster wasn’t so close. “O-okay.”

“For services rendered, I will pay you ten thousand dollars a night,” Cold continued, a smug smirk playing over his lips. “If you happen to exceed my expectations, I reserve the right to give you a bonus. Let’s say, another five thousand? But, should you be disappointing or displease me at any time, I will end the deal and penalize you another hundred thousand dollars.”

Jimmy thought he might throw up. What the fuck was he getting himself into? This was a huge risk. Even if he managed to please Cold every night, it would take almost a month to pay off what he owed. And if he screwed up? He’d be ruined, and Jules would certainly turn him into barbecue.

He anxiously rubbed a hand through his hair, nails scratching at the back of his neck. “What... what uh, what do you want me to do?”

“Whatever I want,” Cold drawled, laughing softly. “That’s what you offered, remember? I can promise you that I won’t do anything that would cause any lasting damage... but remember, you must obey my every order, or the deal is off.”

Jimmy licked his lips, wishing he could see another way to get himself out of this. He had no idea what a man like Cold might ask of him, but he had to accept the risk. He had no other choice. “When do you want me to—”

“Tonight,” Cold replied immediately. “Think of it... as a test run. Take you for a spin before I decide to buy.” He stood up, gracefully strolling over to Jimmy and handing him a small business card. “Here.”

It was for the Wynne Hotel, a large and swanky establishment downtown. “At the desk, ask for Thomas Frost’s room. They’ll send you right up.” He stroked a gloved hand over Jimmy’s cheek, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he said, “Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Jimmy could only nod, staring up at the beautiful gangster as he pulled away, him and Jules departing. The door shut and even though Jimmy was expecting it, the sound still made him jump.

“Holy crap,” he said, panting erratically. He was still full of adrenaline and had nowhere to put it, getting to his feet and starting to clean the apartment. He matched socks and folded his threadbare towels; he washed dishes and scrubbed his counters. He couldn’t sit still, collapsing back in his recliner and cradling his face when he was finally exhausted.

He started doing the math in his head again, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jimmy owed over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

At ten thousand dollars a night, that meant at least twenty-five nights, probably twenty-six, to completely clear his debt.

The bonuses would certainly help, but God knew what it would take to earn one. He had to worry about pleasing Boss Cold and obeying his every order without having any idea what might be asked of him. He should assume the worst, but Jimmy was actually intrigued. He’d never been brave enough to be very adventurous in the bedroom before.

Maybe this would be educational, he tried to tell himself hopefully. Maybe he would even enjoy it. He hadn’t had a boyfriend or a girlfriend in a very long time. The company of his own hand had been the only outlet for stress relief for a while now.

Although intimidating, Cold was very handsome, and Jimmy caught himself wondering what could be hiding under all those layers of clothing. He’d find out soon enough, daydreaming about rippling pecs and washboard abs. He used his precious eighty-six dollars and nineteen cents to order a small pizza, the highlight of a very crappy day, leaving him with fifty-six dollars and eighty-four cents to get a cab downtown.

Even though working for Cold was going to take care of his debt to him, it still wasn’t going to feed him or pay his rent. He had to find another job. Gobbling up the pizza, he flipped through the classifieds in search of employment. As a college drop-out with a checkered job history, his prospects were limited to retail and customer service. He began to lose track of the time, making a list of stores to visit tomorrow and hopefully find a place that would be willing to pay him in advance.

By the time he looked at the clock, it was already a few minutes past eight.

“Ohhh, fuck,” Jimmy moaned in frustration. He had to get ready, anxiously hurrying to his room to change clothes. He thumbed through his closet, trying to decide what to wear.

Was this like a date? Should he dress up a little? What was the appropriate attire to go have sex with a mob boss to settle a debt?

He picked out the nicest shirt he owned, a simple button-up in a rich red that he’d always been told was his color. He switched between a few different pairs of jeans until he settled on one that fit his long legs well. He was digging through his shoes when it suddenly struck him that whatever he wore probably didn’t matter. After all, it was all going to end up on the floor, wasn’t it?

Sighing, he pulled on his old faithful black sneakers and grabbed his jacket as he rushed out the door. He hailed a cab and promised a big tip if they could get to the Wynne Hotel before nine. He had to hurry, his palms already sweating and his stomach turning somersaults the entire way.

One thing he was certain of was that Boss Cold would not appreciate tardiness.