Play Dirty (Wages of Sin #2) - Neve Wilder Page 0,64
Azrael gave a firm nod, and Madigan allowed a small smile when their eyes met. Alright, maybe they weren’t so bad at couples’ therapy after all. Surely, they’d just made progress by agreeing on something mutually.
“The physical connection is strong, yes,” the doctor said. “That’s evident. Let’s take that off the table. Try for something a little more challenging. A trait, perhaps. A skill. A quality.” He nodded at Madigan. “Go ahead.”
Madigan scowled and shook his head, the sense of accomplishment from moments ago withering. This was a fucking joke.
Azrael’s jet gaze lingered on Madigan in a way that he could feel like a blade in his chest. Sharp and present, piercing. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t actually mind the way it pinned him now. In spite of his current frustration, he found it familiar and strangely comforting. There had been months when Madigan was sure he was more a machine than a man, an assemblage of moving parts set to kill. Az made him feel like a man again. Fallible. Vulnerable. Human. The Angel of Death set him on edge and then smoothed away the jagged parts, and Madigan craved it like nothing else he’d ever had before. Perhaps it was unhealthy, but what was normal to men like themselves, who racked up body counts rather than friends? Who had no family to speak of, and no one who would dare claim them?
Madigan cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the foreboding knot forming there before continuing. Fine, he could do this. “Akil is one of the most resourceful men I’ve ever met. His ‘business’ sense is keen. He’s calm and calculating. That trait often makes men cold, but not Akil; he’s as capable of passion as he is level-headed. He’s intelligent beyond what I suspect I can comprehend, and when I’m with him, the ground feels more solid beneath my feet.” Madigan pressed his lips together. Why the fuck had he said that last part? That was completely unnecessary. It’d just slipped out.
Warmth spread over his thigh, and he glanced down to find Azrael’s palm splayed there. Azrael gave it a light squeeze.
“Excellent. And now, your turn, Akil.”
“Alright.” Azrael sounded completely at ease, and Madigan found that, as he stared at Az’s hand on his thigh, he didn’t want to know what Azrael admired about him.
In fact, he desperately wanted to avoid knowing.
“John is—” Azrael began, then paused as Madigan jolted when his phone vibrated against his leg.
“Just a minute,” Madigan interrupted, and then swiftly retrieved the phone from his pocket. He read the message and gave the photo a cursory glance before clearing his throat. “I think we’ve done enough therapy for today.” Thank fuck.
The doctor’s gaze shifted toward Madigan and remained neutral even as Madigan lifted the screen and displayed the image upon it. But Madigan caught the tiniest flinch around his eyes.
The doctor set his tablet aside and gestured, palm up. “Alright. What game are we really playing here, gentlemen?” he asked with such calm that Madigan got the idea it wasn’t the first time one of his sessions had wildly derailed.
Azrael leaned forward, flipping open a box that had been sitting on the table between them, displaying a small black plastic disc. “During your next session with Michael Bennington, we need you to stick this to the underside of a table. Preferably a desk or some other solid piece of furniture where it will be inconspicuous.”
The doctor sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaving the mahogany strands attractively wild for a second before he smoothed them down. The gesture seemed out of place on such a put together man, and Madigan studied him closer, wondering if it had been intentional or if it truly was a sign that he was flustered. When the guy shifted, Madigan glimpsed the faint outline of a gun in a holster along his rib cage. There was probably more. A knife strapped to an ankle. Another gun. Madigan wondered how well he handled them.
The doctor leaned forward and took the disc, pinching it between his fingers and turning it before his eyes, then set it down. “I acquired the dog by accident. Someone dumped her by the side of the road. She was a mess. I got her fixed up and meant to turn her into an adoption facility. I didn’t want the responsibility. Didn’t have the time,” he said in a clipped, dispassionate tone that softened the longer he spoke.