Page 26 of Play Dirty
Madigan let out a snarl, fighting the desire to chase after the other man. Even in the scant handful of seconds Az had been in Madigan’s line of sight, his scent, his touch, the way he felt in Madigan’s hands came rushing back with such violent force it was dizzying.
Madigan made himself turn left after the couple and pulled out his phone.
“I’m going to start making you pay me a retainer,” Cas drawled.
“Fine, name the price. But while you think about it, I need you to search every hotel in Atlantic City for the aliases I’m about to give you.” He started to list them off and frowned when he heard Jonah laughing in the background. “Am I on speaker?”
“Yeah. We might have been a little busy. You should be honored I even answered your call. Jonah says hi.” Jonah’s laughter continued, and Madigan knew exactly why.
“Do me a favor. Whenever there’s a wedding, don’t invite me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, I promise.” Cas crooned, though he was certainly lying. “Give me ten. No, twenty—Jonah’s giving me a look. Twenty minutes, and I’ll get back to you.”
Madigan trailed his target to a mid-rise building off the strip that appeared to be either an extended stay executive hotel or some sort of temporary apartments. He did a brief walk around to check out the layout and surrounding buildings and almost dropped his phone trying to retrieve it from his pocket when it vibrated with a message.
With a grin, he punched the number on-screen.
“You’ve reached the Claridge. My name is Beverly, how can I help you?”
“I need you to leave a message for my husband. He’s in suite 1204. Could you let him know his husband has reservations atCappricioat eight. Tell him I’ll meet him there.”
* * *
Madigan was…nervous.No, he wouldn’t call it nervousness, but he was on edge, his stomach riddled with a kaleidoscope of butterfly wings that he sometimes got on a particularly challenging kill before he focused and pushed it aside.
These weren’t going away, though, no matter how many deep breaths he took.
He checked his watch again. Az was late, which was a little amusing considering how often he’d shown up at particularly untimely moments over the years. Or maybe that was just par for the course. Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all. Madigan wouldn’t be able to hold that against him, either.
The waiter had already delivered his drink and checked in on him again to see if he wanted to order and then circled back another time to see if he wanted an appetizer before seeming to run out of ways to subtly remind Madigan he was taking up precious real estate.
At the half-hour mark, Az strolled in wearing a suit that had obviously been tailored to enhance every divine proportion of his build and had a lethal effect on Madigan’s attempt to remain a neutral observer. Watching him navigate through the crowd, sleek as a panther, predatory as a shark, as he followed the hostess, self-assured and offering a polite quarter smile to those who caught his eye, made Madigan’s blood run south to his cock. However Azrael had been occupying himself over the past month had clearly had a beneficial effect on his…everything.
As Az arrived at the table, Madigan stood before he could stop himself.
Az’s eyebrows hiked up. “Going to push my chair in for me, too, or were you standing to leave?”
“Reflex.” He swallowed a sigh and sat back down.
The waiter rushed over and set a glass of whiskey in front of Az. Az’s lips curved in a smile.
“It’s your favorite. Yamakazi, right?”
Az nodded once before studying Madigan pensively. It felt like being under a microscope, like Madi had been flayed open for his scrutiny, and, deep down, he couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through him at being subjected to that gaze again after so long apart.
“Is this a date or a business meeting, Madigan?”
He didn’t miss the slight stumble over his name, as if Az had been about to use his favored moniker and yet again had to catch himself. This time, a pang of longing beat through his chest at its absence. “You’re full of questions tonight.”
“And, so far, you’ve given me nothing of substance for an answer.”
“Are you here for”—Madigan lowered his voice—“Hartman?” Though, if that were the case, Madigan couldn’t imagine why Az hadn’t already swept the kill from under him.
Azrael’s smile turned enigmatic. “Just visiting.”
“Now who’s being vague?”
“We’re tit for tat, remember? That’s how you like it, yes?”