Page 51 of Play Dirty
Mantis let out a little yip at the same time a hand thrust into the remaining two-inch gap of the sliding door, triggering it to stop with a jolt and slowly reverse course. Madigan was instantly wide awake, gun in hand and trained against the opening from where he’d slid next to the door.
“You could offer us a little coffee before you shoot.”
The knot in Madigan’s stomach loosened at the sound of Jonah’s voice. He muttered a curse and tucked the gun away as Jonah stepped onto the elevator with Cas. “The hell are you two doing here?”
“Missed you, too.” Cas blew him a mocking kiss. “ Surprise.” He spangled his fingers in the air. “ Jonah can’t stand being out of the action, and I don’t like being left alone these days.”
“Sounds like you and Miss Mantis here have that in common.” Madigan nudged his chin toward the dog, then pointedly flicked his gaze back and forth between the two. “Actually, there’s more than just a passing resemblance between you two.”
Cas flipped him off and nudged Jonah. “Told you he’d be totally ungrateful. We should’ve just stayed home.”
“He’s relieved we’re here, actually.” Jonah’s gaze upon Madigan hadn’t relented since he’d stepped into the elevator, and he wasn’t wrong. “Aren’t you?”
“Not gonna turn down the extra hands, nope,” Madigan admitted. After going over the plans Cas had sent him, it’d occurred to him more than once that, given everything he’d seen of Bennington’s cleverness and caution so far, he couldn’t discount the guy might outwit them again, even with the extra manpower.
The elevator slid open, and they walked down the hall toward the apartment. “Cas is gonna set up in the apartment as long as the signal is solid. Otherwise, he can do it back at the hotel. I just figured it might be good to have us all in one place.”
“Sadie’s going to join us from the airport,” Madigan said, and Jonah nodded in acknowledgment. “Ronin should be here in about an hour.” He groaned a happy sigh at the scent of coffee that greeted him when he opened the door to the apartment.
He could hear Azrael puttering around in the kitchen, and a smile instinctively formed on his lips, turning into a laugh as Cas sputtered out a“Jesus fucking Christ”from behind him. Madigan found himself trying to see Azrael with new eyes the way Cas so obviously was: the broad, scarred back, chiseled musculature, the wild, pitch black hair. The tight, temptingly pinchable ass…which was currently bare and completely exposed.
Madigan grinned as Azrael turned around, humor sparkling in his eyes as he glanced down at his own nudity. “You could’ve warned me, hmm?” he said mildly and then, inclining his chin to Jonah and Cas, said, “Coffee? I’ve just made a pot.”
“Please,” Jonah said, without missing a beat. “Cas’ll have some, too, once he picks his jaw up off the floor. He likes it with cream and sugar. Nice ‘stirring stick,’” he acknowledged with a gruff snort.
Madigan took care of the coffee and fed Mantis while Az went and got dressed, then they gathered around the kitchen table.
Madigan confirmed that he’d received word from the doctor, who was en route to his appointment with Bennington.
Ronin joined them a half hour later, and they went over the plan again before Ronin kicked back in the chair and cast a dubious glance around. “Sure this isn’t overkill?”
“Not if the guy’s paranoid. He might’ve added more security detail. I’ll be right outside, keeping an eye on things that way, and Ronin, you’ll be just inside the perimeter playing sweeper, cleaning up any strays,” Jonah said.
Cas opened a second laptop and set it next to his first. “Madigan, I’ve got you and Azrael flying out of JFK and Boston International respectively, under some of your more accessible aliases. So, that should distract a few hunters and, if we’re lucky and Bennington has his ears to the rail, maybe he’ll relax a little bit.”
Ronin snorted. “Not likely.”
Madigan studied the man. “You know him?”
“I know of people who have dealt with him, that’s all.”
“Got any other insider tips that might be useful to know?” Madigan drawled.
“Nope, most of the people I know who dealt with him are dead now.”
* * *
Madigan cameup behind Az as he shaved in the bathroom and caged him in, planting his hands on either side of the counter and resting his chin lightly on Az’s shoulder, watching as he drew the razor carefully down his cheek. Molding himself to Az’s back, he let the warmth of the other man’s skin seep into him. “D’you think Eastman would see us again?”
The razor’s movement paused, and Az tilted his head, a question in his eyes.
“I’ll fuck it up,” Madigan admitted after a beat. “Or maybe you will. But one of us will, for sure. Neither of us are particularly”—he circled a finger around his temple—“alright in the head.” He cleared his throat, his next admission quieter. “I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“So, your solution is to see a doctor who specializes in psychopaths for continued couples counseling?” Azrael’s tone was amused, though not mocking.
“He did say we’re borderline, so I’m assuming that means there’s hope for us, and we can’t exactly go see a regular therapist, can we? How would you even vet someone like that? ‘Do you have experience counseling two emotionally stunted men who kill people for a living and would like to attempt a functional relationship?’”
“Touché.” Az chuckled, and then set the razor down, reaching to run his knuckles along Madigan’s jaw. “I think it’s a good idea. I’m just surprised is all. You seemed…not very on board the other day.”