Play Dirty (Wages of Sin #2) - Neve Wilder Page 0,39

eight. Tell him I’ll meet him there.”

Madigan was…nervous. No, he wouldn’t call it nervousness, but he was on edge, his stomach riddled with a kaleidoscope of butterfly wings that he sometimes got on a particularly challenging kill before he focused and pushed it aside.

These weren’t going away, though, no matter how many deep breaths he took.

He checked his watch again. Az was late, which was a little amusing considering how often he’d shown up at particularly untimely moments over the years. Or maybe that was just par for the course. Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all. Madigan wouldn’t be able to hold that against him, either.

The waiter had already delivered his drink and checked in on him again to see if he wanted to order and then circled back another time to see if he wanted an appetizer before seeming to run out of ways to subtly remind Madigan he was taking up precious real estate.

At the half-hour mark, Az strolled in wearing a suit that had obviously been tailored to enhance every divine proportion of his build and had a lethal effect on Madigan’s attempt to remain a neutral observer. Watching him navigate through the crowd, sleek as a panther, predatory as a shark, as he followed the hostess, self-assured and offering a polite quarter smile to those who caught his eye, made Madigan’s blood run south to his cock. However Azrael had been occupying himself over the past month had clearly had a beneficial effect on his…everything.

As Az arrived at the table, Madigan stood before he could stop himself.

Az’s eyebrows hiked up. “Going to push my chair in for me, too, or were you standing to leave?”

“Reflex.” He swallowed a sigh and sat back down.

The waiter rushed over and set a glass of whiskey in front of Az. Az’s lips curved in a smile.

“It’s your favorite. Yamakazi, right?”

Az nodded once before studying Madigan pensively. It felt like being under a microscope, like Madi had been flayed open for his scrutiny, and, deep down, he couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through him at being subjected to that gaze again after so long apart.

“Is this a date or a business meeting, Madigan?”

He didn’t miss the slight stumble over his name, as if Az had been about to use his favored moniker and yet again had to catch himself. This time, a pang of longing beat through his chest at its absence. “You’re full of questions tonight.”

“And, so far, you’ve given me nothing of substance for an answer.”

“Are you here for”—Madigan lowered his voice—“Hartman?” Though, if that were the case, Madigan couldn’t imagine why Az hadn’t already swept the kill from under him.

Azrael’s smile turned enigmatic. “Just visiting.”

“Now who’s being vague?”

“We’re tit for tat, remember? That’s how you like it, yes?”

The waiter returned, and Madigan gave his order distractedly. Az took his time studying the menu. Once the man left again, Madigan leaned in, forearms on the table.

“I went on vacation. To Belize.”

“How nice for you,” Az said neutrally as his gaze drifted around the room.

Madigan couldn’t stand one more second of his passivity. He smacked his hand on the table, Azrael’s chin jerking back as the water in their glasses rippled. “Actually, it wasn’t nice. I couldn’t relax.” He drew his hand back, fingers curling into a fist. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. We’ve gone months without seeing each other before, and this time, I couldn’t make it a week without you lurking behind every thought, without wondering where you were and if you were okay. I wanted you.” Madigan inhaled sharply for steadiness and blew the breath out quietly. It was the same thing he did before he fired a shot. Somehow, this moment felt all too similar. “I missed you.”

11

Azrael

Az had prepped for this meeting almost since the moment they’d separated weeks before. Even as they’d parted ways, Az had known it wasn’t goodbye forever. Not really. They were magnets, impossibly drawn to each other, so he’d planned their reunion well. He hadn’t known Madi would pick a public place, but perhaps that was better. They were lethal in private, tearing at each other until they finally came together…like snakes mating.

When Madigan had left him the message, Az had chosen his armor with care. A perfectly-fitted navy blue suit with a crisp white shirt and gold tie the same liquid honey as his eyes. He picked up his drink, sipping his whiskey while he did his best to pretend he wasn’t bleeding inside. He’d wanted