Play Dirty (Wages of Sin #2) - Neve Wilder Page 0,17

up for that one. He’s old—a has-been as far as I can tell.” Convince me. Madigan shoved the thought aside.

“Not him. He’s already dead.” Az popped another piece of papaya into his mouth.

“Since when? The name was still there when I checked this morning.”

“Last night. Night before maybe.” His lips quirked up at Madigan’s expression. “You have your grapevine, I have mine.” Az pulled out his phone, made a couple of swipes, and passed it across the table to Madigan. “Click play.”

“I could’ve deduced what I was supposed to do myself, thanks. I’m resourceful like that.”

“Sometimes, you do better when you’re given precise instructions.” Az wiped a bit of juice from his lower lip with his thumb and sucked the tip into his mouth suggestively.

Madigan held back a sneer and pressed the screen to start the video. The footage was grainy and captured from a distance, the faces indistinct. He kept his expression carefully neutral as he watched the video, and when it ended, he shoved the phone toward Az with a prompting stare.

Az nudged the phone back in front of Madigan and leaned forward, invading his space with the sweet scent of papaya and soap, dark lashes framing a penetrating stare that twinkled with amusement as he held Madigan’s gaze, as if to remind him what it was like to have him so close. After a beat, he pressed play again and indicated the left side of the screen. “DiMarco”—he pointed to another figure—“and Bennington. Two of the targets on the list. Together.” He paused to let that sink in.

“Where?”

Az leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his lap, expression smug. “Here. You’ve already killed the third, but they weren’t supposed to meet until three days from now. He came early to enjoy the Copacabana Street festivities, and now, here the two of us are, conveniently stationed to intercept and remove them.”

“Where are they meeting?”

“Not sure. We’ll have to do a little recon to figure it out. I’ve got some intel on where they’re staying. One’s in a hotel. Private armed guards. The other has rented a house. Compound, really. Also heavily guarded.”

“And yet, you know they’re meeting. How is that?” Madigan cocked his head, but Az remained impassive.

“Like I said before, I’ve got my grapevine.”

Madigan could cross-check with his own contacts, but he was irritated Az had a leg up on him from the get-go. If he’d known about the meeting, he would’ve waited and swept all three from beneath Azrael’s nose.

His gaze snapped up at the sound of Azrael’s laughter.

“I know what you’re thinking right now. They are not the simple targets you might think they are, Madigan, even for you and your big guns. But go ahead and verify with your contacts,” Az said, clearly anticipating Madigan. “They’ll tell you the same.”

“Why are they meeting?”

Az shrugged one shoulder. “That I do not know.”

“Why would they still meet here if their third is dead? I doubt they’d be that reckless.”

Az made a noise in the back of his throat. “They don’t know he’s dead.”

Madigan cursed and started to rise. “I’m tired of this game already.”

Az shot a hand out, the bruising grip on Madigan’s forearm easing at Madi’s steely gaze. “You don’t know everything about me. Sit.” His hand slid slowly down Madigan’s forearm and fell away, but the warmth of his touch lingered. “Please.”

Madigan sat reluctantly and folded his arms over his chest.

“I lived here in Rio for a couple of years. Everyone can be bought. It was nothing to make his body disappear from the morgue. You got your proof for the kill. I got my set up for the larger plan. For all intents and purposes, Carlos is on a weekend trip to Costa Rica and will return in time for the meeting. We will be waiting.”

Silence fell between them, and, once again, Madigan told himself to get up and leave Az to do the job himself. There were plenty of targets on the list. In ten hours, an entire ocean could separate him from this infuriating man who made him question—even go against—his own instincts. This man, who watched him with an expression that seemed patient and aloof, belied only by the intensity in his dark eyes. Madigan wondered if he allowed it to show on purpose. Probably. Az was nothing if not calculating. They shared that trait, though Madigan was the more impulsive.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, everything inside him screaming no even as