Play Dirty (Wages of Sin #2) - Neve Wilder Page 0,16

even possible Az was setting him up. Madigan pondered that while soaping himself. Az had plenty of opportunity to take him out last night, though. On the other hand, Madigan had always suspected Az of having a flair for the dramatic, given their first meeting, so he couldn’t rule out a display of theatrics before Azrael dealt the final blow.

Feeling eyes upon him, he swiveled and found Az standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Madigan’s gazed landed on his cock first, impressive even in its soft state, and then skipped upward to the more immediate problem: the mug in Az’s hand. “That’s my coffee.”

Az glanced down at the mug, then lifted it to his lips for a swallow. “Is it? It was sitting in the coffeemaker. I assumed it was for me.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Perhaps not.” Az’s smile rubbed over Madi’s skin like a cheese grater. “Why did you leave it there?”

“I don’t like it scorching. When I finish showering, we need to talk.”

“Agreed. But over breakfast.”

“Fine, order whatever you want from room service. I’m not hungry.”

“We’ll go out for breakfast, I think,” Az mused, as if Madigan hadn’t spoken. “There’s a cafe two blocks over that makes a killer Americano. Much better than this shitwater you’ve concocted.”

“Then stop drinking it, for fuck’s sake.” Madigan turned away and soaped up his hair, then closed his eyes as he stepped under the spray to rinse it, hoping that when he opened them again Az would be gone. No such luck. He growled as frigid air rushed over his skin. “The fuck are you doing in here, anyway?”

“Balancing my checkbook. It’s down a couple of zeroes, thanks to you.” Az reached around him for the bar of soap, and Madigan was certain the brush of his cock against Madi’s thigh was on purpose. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Pissing me off,” Madigan muttered, then stepped aside so Az wasn’t touching him. Not that his cock got the memo about the game plan. It was sticking to its usual script of Pavlovian response to Az’s closeness. Madigan jerked aside again as Az wrapped a soapy hand around his shaft. Just the momentary touch sent a fiery tingle racing up his spine. “Uh-uh. So long as we’re working together, none of that. Ground rule number one.” Nevermind that Madigan didn’t intend to work with Az in the first place. He’d deal with that in a bit, though.

“No touching whatsoever? No sliding your cock into my mouth? No tongue in my ass?” Az’s cajoling purr sent Madigan’s heart rate soaring. “No pounding into your tight—”

Madigan ground his molars together as he reached out and twisted the faucet’s temp control to cold, blasting Az’s hard-on with the icy deluge, then stepped out of the shower as Az let loose a string of curses and made a grab for him. “Nope.” He swaggered out of the bathroom with a grin on his face that only widened at Az’s glare when he popped back in to swipe his coffee off the counter.

Confetti littered the gutters of the Brazilian streets, the dye coloring patches of sidewalk in lurid hues. Madigan watched a glimmering bit of foil caught in the base of a lamppost whip around in the morning breeze as he sipped his Americano, which was better than the coffee he’d made in the hotel. The air reeked of piss, booze, and, more faintly, the bougainvillea blooming on the wall five feet away from their small patio table.

They’d walked over from the hotel after Az had showered and dressed, his occasional comment puncturing the ornery silence Madigan had tried to maintain, though, in another time or place—hell, another lifetime—he might have found Az’s musing and colorful observations of passersby entertaining. He had a vivid imagination for where people were heading.

“What other ground rules do you have in mind?” Azrael popped a slice of papaya in his mouth.

Madigan glanced over at him and then sharply away. Even the way the man chewed was obscene and caused a stir of the primal in him. “I’ll let you know when they occur.” Tell him you’re not interested in working together. Get up and walk away. The problem was, Azrael wasn’t wrong. They would be a good team. They each had their own distinct strengths and were equally ruthless and dedicated.

Madigan set his cup on the table and made an impatient gesture. “Which targets were you thinking? Barruco is close. Supposedly, Volta Redonda, but I’m not sure I see the point in teaming