Play Dirty (Wages of Sin #2) - Neve Wilder Page 0,33

cool and familiarly metallic pressed to his temple. Madigan kicked his heel back while tipping his head forward.

The gunshot going off next to his ear deafened him.

Twisting the barrel of his rifle around, Madigan jabbed it blindly backwards until it met resistance, then squeezed the trigger. The pressure around his shoulder fell away, and he spun to see the man sprawled on the pavement—one of DiMarco’s men possibly. He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, though, was that he needed to get the fuck out of there.

The wail of sirens drew close as Madigan eyed the back door again.

Don’t. Stick to the plan. Trust him to take care of himself.

Madigan bit out a curse and took off.

9

Azrael

By the time Madi shouted at Az to get out, it was too late. Three men were advancing on him. There was no getting out the front. He hit the deck as bullets sprayed overhead, showering glass and wood over him as he made a crouching run for the blind hallway Madigan had begged Az not to use. Madi. Az’s heartbeat faltered as he did his best to keep focused on the task at hand. As long as Az could hear the steady cadence of Madi’s rifle hitting, that meant he was okay. He had to be okay.

Az sighed in relief as the bathroom door closed behind him, grateful for the wall that forced any who entered to do so with limited vision. He plastered himself against the tile, both his gun and knife within reach but not in hand. Az focused on the sound of glass, the sound of shattered lights and pictures crunching under booted feet. He only had one shot at this.

Hinges protested as the first man entered, arm advanced, gun in his hand. Az’s hand snaked out, yanking the man forward and wrenching his arm behind his back, using his own hand to shoot the men entering directly behind him, before landing a kick to the man’s knee that sent him to the ground with a scream as he clutched his leg. Az still held the man’s gun, so he put him out of his misery, grimacing at the slightly off-center bullet wound in his forehead.

Guns just weren’t his thing. He crouched beside the body, looking at the weapon resting on the tile, a custom matte black Glock 19 with a flashlight and laser scope. Madi would love that. He palmed Madi’s new present, slipping it in his waistband and shaking the glass and wood chips from his clothing before opening the bathroom window and deftly slipping into the alley. He stopped, pulling a small cylinder from his pocket and popping the barrier between the green and clear liquids, shaking them briefly before tossing it into the restroom and jogging away as fast as he could manage without drawing attention to himself. He made it a hundred yards before the small explosion rocked the block, setting off car alarms and causing another spurt of panic through the crowds gathering outside the restaurant.

Az headed in the opposite direction, weaving his way through back alleys, forcing himself to keep his stride casual. Just another tourist enjoying the city. Madi’s comm was silent. Az told himself it had slipped free during his sprint back to the villa. Nothing more. He refused to allow himself to worry about the man. He was more than capable of handling himself, and even this clusterfuck of a job was hardly the worst Az had seen. He could only imagine Madi would say the same.

Still, he’d be lying if he said his chest didn’t loosen when he entered the villa and saw Madi sitting at the kitchen table, his rifle laid out before him, like he was ready to defend himself against Az if necessary.

Az dropped down into the seat across from him, finally letting himself breathe. “Well, that sucked, no?”

“What the hell was that?” Madi snarled. “Where the fuck was Bennington? I thought you said you could trust that contact of yours.”

“You think we were set up?” Az had pondered the idea himself on his way home.

“What do you think?” Madi scoffed. “DiMarco showed. Bennington didn’t. You think that was a coincidence?”

Az sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. Not likely. Shit.”

“Your ear is bleeding.”

Az glanced up. “What?”

Madi rose, roughly yanking Az’s head to the side. “Your ear is bleeding. So is your neck.”

“I also have a headache, motek. Your bedside manner could use some work,” Az said, even as he allowed Madi to look