Play Dirty (Wages of Sin #2) - Neve Wilder Page 0,73

puttering around in the kitchen, and a smile instinctively formed on his lips, turning into a laugh as Cas sputtered out a “Jesus fucking Christ” from behind him. Madigan found himself trying to see Azrael with new eyes the way Cas so obviously was: the broad, scarred back, chiseled musculature, the wild, pitch black hair. The tight, temptingly pinchable ass…which was currently bare and completely exposed.

Madigan grinned as Azrael turned around, humor sparkling in his eyes as he glanced down at his own nudity. “You could’ve warned me, hmm?” he said mildly and then, inclining his chin to Jonah and Cas, said, “Coffee? I’ve just made a pot.”

“Please,” Jonah said, without missing a beat. “Cas’ll have some, too, once he picks his jaw up off the floor. He likes it with cream and sugar. Nice ‘stirring stick,’” he acknowledged with a gruff snort.

Madigan took care of the coffee and fed Mantis while Az went and got dressed, then they gathered around the kitchen table.

Madigan confirmed that he’d received word from the doctor, who was en route to his appointment with Bennington.

Ronin joined them a half hour later, and they went over the plan again before Ronin kicked back in the chair and cast a dubious glance around. “Sure this isn’t overkill?”

“Not if the guy’s paranoid. He might’ve added more security detail. I’ll be right outside, keeping an eye on things that way, and Ronin, you’ll be just inside the perimeter playing sweeper, cleaning up any strays,” Jonah said.

Cas opened a second laptop and set it next to his first. “Madigan, I’ve got you and Azrael flying out of JFK and Boston International respectively, under some of your more accessible aliases. So, that should distract a few hunters and, if we’re lucky and Bennington has his ears to the rail, maybe he’ll relax a little bit.”

Ronin snorted. “Not likely.”

Madigan studied the man. “You know him?”

“I know of people who have dealt with him, that’s all.”

“Got any other insider tips that might be useful to know?” Madigan drawled.

“Nope, most of the people I know who dealt with him are dead now.”

Madigan came up behind Az as he shaved in the bathroom and caged him in, planting his hands on either side of the counter and resting his chin lightly on Az’s shoulder, watching as he drew the razor carefully down his cheek. Molding himself to Az’s back, he let the warmth of the other man’s skin seep into him. “D’you think Eastman would see us again?”

The razor’s movement paused, and Az tilted his head, a question in his eyes.

“I’ll fuck it up,” Madigan admitted after a beat. “Or maybe you will. But one of us will, for sure. Neither of us are particularly”—he circled a finger around his temple—“alright in the head.” He cleared his throat, his next admission quieter. “I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“So, your solution is to see a doctor who specializes in psychopaths for continued couples counseling?” Azrael’s tone was amused, though not mocking.

“He did say we’re borderline, so I’m assuming that means there’s hope for us, and we can’t exactly go see a regular therapist, can we? How would you even vet someone like that? ‘Do you have experience counseling two emotionally stunted men who kill people for a living and would like to attempt a functional relationship?’”

“Touché.” Az chuckled, and then set the razor down, reaching to run his knuckles along Madigan’s jaw. “I think it’s a good idea. I’m just surprised is all. You seemed…not very on board the other day.”

Madigan smirked. “Your magical dick has shown me the error of my ways and healed my heart. Imagine that. Just like in the movies. It’s a holiday miracle.”

Azrael swiveled around and brushed his lips over Madigan’s. “Just don’t go growing a conscience.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

In the bedroom, they dressed carefully, layering accordingly. Just outside the bedroom door, the living room resembled an armory or some kind of assassin’s buffet, an all-you-can-take selection of weaponry laid out on a tarp, thanks to one of Ronin’s hookups in the city. They’d all gone through and made their selections earlier.

Az and Madigan took turns fitting and tucking various devices and weapons on each other. “Too tight?” Madigan asked when Az grimaced as he was cinching the Velcro tighter on the Kevlar body armor vest.

“No, it’s fine,” Azrael said, but his gaze lingered on Madigan’s hand as he checked the fit and then smoothed up his side. When their eyes met, Azrael’s lips pursed briefly. “I’ve never