Play Dirty (Wages of Sin #2) - Neve Wilder Page 0,44
to remember everything, the softness of his lips, the burn of his scruff, the feel of his hip digging into Az’s.
The syringe in his hand pierced Madi’s muscle with such precision that he didn’t even seem to realize Az had stabbed him until he pushed down on the plunger, the liquid inside the syringe burning on entry.
Madi’s hand closed around Az’s throat, but the medication’s effect was immediate.
“I’m sorry, motek,” Az whispered just before the drugs sucked Madi under. “I’m truly sorry.”
He meant it. God forgive him. He meant it.
12
Madigan
“Drink, Madigan.” Az’s accent melted over him, the soothing tone at odds with the pounding in Madigan’s head as he tried to focus. “You need the hydration.”
The dim yellow lights above Madigan had fuzzy golden halos, and Az’s face was a blurred impression of tawny hues. His arms hung limply at his sides, leaden, and the edge of his vision was like a seventies soft focus camera lens. He could hardly see a damn thing. When he tried to speak, instead of words coming out, cool liquid flowed in.
He sputtered, then got control of his throat and began to guzzle. Fuck, that was good. His mouth was parched, his tongue as heavy as the rest of him. He’d been…... What had he been doing?
Another slow blink, like sandpaper scraping over his eyeballs. The water vanished, and Madigan hissed at a sudden sting to the inside of his arm. He was about to ask why the hell Az had pinched him when the world rushed toward him in blinding technicolor. His heart rate shot from a sluggish gait to a full-blown gallop in a span of nanoseconds.
“Shit. I might’ve overshot the dosage a little there.”
Madigan blinked rapidly, taking in the sudden influx of sensory information. Grey cement walls. Cement floor, cool on his feet. His bare feet. Goosebumps. No shirt. A rattle when he shifted. Chains. Floor drain.
A kill room.
Madigan lurched toward Azrael with a feral snarl, his body flushed with adrenaline and tight with raw power waiting to be unleashed thanks to whatever Az had pumped into his veins.
The shackles at his ankles and wrists immediately jerked him backward on his ass across the stone floor. He landed on his side, biting out a curse as his head cracked against the legs of the chair he’d been slumped in seconds ago.
Az lifted his palms in a placating gesture as Madigan sat up with a scowl, in no mood to be placated considering his current predicament. Every motherfucking fear and doubt he’d had about the wily asshole standing in front of him shrieked, I told you so in the back of his mind. Meanwhile, his heart was trying to claw through his chest.
How long did he have before he went into cardiac arrest? Seconds? A minute? Long enough to try to retaliate again? “Quit messing with me and fucking shoot me, you coward,” he spat. “I’d at least give you that.”
“I can’t yet.” Azrael’s voice was quiet but firm. And surely, surely that wasn’t a hint of fucking apology in his eyes as he spoke, as if he thought Madigan might somehow understand, one killer to another.
But what else had Madigan really expected? It had always been meant to end this way, hadn’t it?
Madigan narrowed his eyes and spat at Az’s feet. “Where am I?”
Az seemed about to speak again when the metal door swung wide and his contact from the club in Rio poked his head in. Madigan glared at him. Fucking figured. That guy had smelled like bad news from the start.
“Ah. He’s awake. Great. Need another pic and I’ll send it to the boss and see what he wants next.” Ryan grinned sharply at Madigan as he lifted his phone. “Say cheese, asshole.”
Madigan tucked his chin obstinately.
“Grab him, would you? Can’t see shit.”
Az stepped forward, pressing a hand to Madigan’s forehead to tilt it back up. Using all the available give in the chains, Madigan drove his fist into Az’s solar plexus.
Az danced a step back at the same time something cracked so soundly across Madigan’s cheek he saw stars. Pain speared through his eye socket and radiated over his jaw.
Azrael muttered something indecipherable and moved behind Madigan. This time, Madi didn’t resist the cool press of his fingertips. He winced as the flash went off.
“Think his fucking cheek cracked my screen. Got it, though. I’ll make the call.” Ryan paused in the doorway. “I’m grabbing lunch. You want anything?”