Page 27 of Play Dirty

The waiter returned, and Madigan gave his order distractedly. Az took his time studying the menu. Once the man left again, Madigan leaned in, forearms on the table.

“I went on vacation. To Belize.”

“How nice for you,” Az said neutrally as his gaze drifted around the room.

Madigan couldn’t stand one more second of his passivity. He smacked his hand on the table, Azrael’s chin jerking back as the water in their glasses rippled. “Actually, it wasn’t nice. I couldn’t relax.” He drew his hand back, fingers curling into a fist. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. We’ve gone months without seeing each other before, and this time, I couldn’t make it a week without you lurking behind every thought, without wondering where you were and if you were okay. Iwantedyou.” Madigan inhaled sharply for steadiness and blew the breath out quietly. It was the same thing he did before he fired a shot. Somehow, this moment felt all too similar. “I missed you.”

11

Azrael

Az had prepped for this meeting almost since the moment they’d separated weeks before. Even as they’d parted ways, Az had known it wasn’t goodbye forever. Not really. They were magnets, impossibly drawn to each other, so he’d planned their reunion well. He hadn’t known Madi would pick a public place, but perhaps that was better. They were lethal in private, tearing at each other until they finally came together…like snakes mating.

When Madigan had left him the message, Az had chosen his armor with care. A perfectly-fitted navy blue suit with a crisp white shirt and gold tie the same liquid honey as his eyes. He picked up his drink, sipping his whiskey while he did his best to pretend he wasn’t bleeding inside. He’d wanted Madi to want him, to feel regret about how they’d parted, but he hadn’t anticipated it. In fact, he’d imagined just the opposite, and Az’s plan only worked with Madi’s indifference. Az understood that. But not this.

Az had imagined Madigan would be his usual cocky self. Az was almost certain Madigan would be angry that, somehow, they’d once again seemingly gone after the same target, but he hadn’t expected to see him…contrite, even vulnerable.

“I missed you.”

Three words…hell, three syllables…had pierced through the armor around Az’s heart with the same catastrophic precision as one of Madi’s bullets. How could he sit there and look at him and say he missed Az just weeks after saying he couldn’t be trusted?

Az finished his drink in one gulp and shot to his feet. He reached into his pocket and opened his wallet, pulling out money and the extra key to his room. “I’m not discussing this here. If you want to continue this conversation, meet me at the hotel. Room 410.” Madi blinked at him before giving him a stilted nod. The waiter advanced on them, probably to offer another round of drinks. “Bring the food with you. I have the booze.”

Did Madi’s shoulders sag just a bit? Did he think Az’s hunger was for more than just the food? Was he right? Of course, he was right. Everything about Madi was sexy, from his button-down shirt showing off his well-defined chest and deep tan to the way his big hand closed around his glass, his thumb drawing lazy strokes through the condensation. Az wanted Madi to be drawing patterns on his skin, biting his lips, fingers clenching at his shoulders.

Christ, he needed to get the fuck out of there. Az turned on his heel, forcing himself to stroll out and take one of the many cabs lined up outside the restaurant, grateful his hotel was only a stone’s throw away.

“I missed you.”

The words rattled in Az’s head and in his heart. Could he even believe them? If he’d missed Az so much, why had he waited until he saw Az to contact him? Things might have been much different if Madigan had just picked up a phone instead of being a stubborn asshole. Now, he’d fucking ruined everything.

Once Az was back in his suite, he poured himself a tumbler full of whiskey, taking deep swigs as he paced the room. The alcohol wasn’t helping. Nothing was. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t get nervous. No matter how dangerous the situation, he’d always managed to channel his fear into adrenaline, and adrenaline sharpened his focus. But this wasn’t anything like that. He wasn’t afraid of Madi.

Az had known this moment was coming. He’d girded himself for this situation. He could do this. It was just sex, just a job. They had just gotten too close before, but it wouldn’t happen again. Guys like them didn’t form attachments or connections. Nothing in Az’s past had conditioned him to trust another human being, but, somehow, Madi had gotten past every defense Az had.

At first, Az had convinced himself it was just a game they played, that the feelings he had for Madi were congenial, friends with benefits, a little excitement in the monotony of murder. But he’d been lying to himself, and, for reasons Az couldn’t even fathom, it now made him furious…at Madigan, at himself. This wasn’t who they were.

Az threw his glass against the wall, watching with satisfaction as it shattered somewhere across the room, far from where he stood.

Madigan was right; they were weaker together. They created blindspots for each other. Az had made peace with it weeks ago. He’d drunk himself into a few stupors, killed some lower level targets, jerked off to memories of Madi more than he cared to admit, and then he’d just accepted that they didn’t work and when they saw each other again, Madi would pass right by as if Az didn’t exist. At first, he had, but then came the message…from his husband. The words were sharp, like a knife jutting through his ribcage, making it hard to breathe. It was an inside joke they’d had from the start, but, somehow, using those words now felt almost like rubbing salt in a wound he’d thought was closed.

Az was a little drunk by the time the door beeped and swung open. Madi made a noise of surprise when Az dragged him inside by his tie, slamming him against the door. Madi dropped the bag of food, and Az kicked it away.

As soon as the door fell shut, Az put his forearm against Madi’s neck, pressing until his cheeks began to turn pink. In the past, Madigan would have snatched Az’s arm, twisting it behind his back and shoving his chest up against the wall, but, this time, he simply exposed more of his throat.

“Fuck you, Madigan,” Az snarled, suddenly turning away, back heaving, not with exertion but frustration.

“Look—” Madi started, moving away from the wall.

Az spun back around, shoving him hard, getting in his face until they were breathing each other’s air. “You missed me? How can you even say that with a straight face? You said we were better apart. You said you thought I set you up. Now, here you are, telling me that, while I’ve been feeling like somebody scooped out a bit of my insides, you’ve been fucking vacationing.”

Madi’s expression softened into something that was much too close to pity for Az’s taste. “Az—” Madi tried again, but Az wasn’t having it.

It was like something had broken inside of him, and he just couldn’t stop speaking. “No.No. You don’t get to talk. When you talk, chaos fucking follows and I forget who I am. You make me forget that I prefer being alone. You make me forget that nothing good comes from letting somebody in.” Az wanted to punch him or stab him, wanted to do anything that would make Madi look on the outside the way Az felt on the inside. “You missed me,” he spat again. “Fuck you.”

Az needed space, but when he turned away this time, Madi put a hand on his shoulder.

Az spun on his heel, letting his fist fly and clocking Madi hard enough for the other man’s teeth to clack together. Any other time, Madi would have swung back, would’ve pulled his knife and cut Az free of his clothes, maybe made him bleed, and then they would have tumbled into bed. But, this time, Madi just stood there, rubbing his jaw where Az had struck him.