Page 64 of Play Dirty

Soren’s warm brown gaze flickered over Madigan. “Demo’s not the same as wet work. You know that.”

“Tell me where you’re heading, at least?”

“Boston.”

Madigan curled his lip. “Enjoy. I have no desire to revisit any time soon. Their sewers are filthy.”

“That’s why most people stay out of them, I imagine.” Soren grinned.

They remained another hour, the sky a pitch-black blanket dotted with stars by the time they left the building. Madigan was light-headed with a buzz.

He fished out his car keys and handed them over to Azrael, their shoulders brushing as they walked, Madigan acutely aware of the contact. Their breaths puffed out in opaque bursts, and the snow was piled high on the sidewalk beside them. Around them, lights glowed in golds, greens, and reds, and Madigan, who would claim to have never felt an inkling of holiday spirit in his life, suddenly felt it in the air around him, suffusing and saturating him to his core.

He stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and slowly spun, taking it in.

“Madigan?” Azrael’s eyes held a question that Madigan tipped forward and answered with a lingering kiss he hoped transmitted even a tenth of the satisfaction he felt in that moment.

When he broke away, he wrapped an arm around Azrael’s waist and guided them off the curb toward the garage. “C’mon, we’ve got a plane to catch, and I’ve never been to the mile high club.”

Azrael snorted. “I hardly believe that.”

“It’s true,” Madigan insisted with a smile.

“I’ve always thought it was likely overrated anyway.”

“We’ll see.”

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