“I’m taken.”
Nadine’s laughter in his ear only stopped when Patrick ended the call.
17
“I don’t like this.”
Jono looked up from tying his trainers—a pair he wouldn’t mind losing—to find Patrick staring at him from the short hallway that led to their bedroom and the still-damaged bathroom. Jono’s gaze slowly traveled up and down Patrick’s body, taking him in.
I wouldn’t mind seeing him in an actual uniform.
Patrick wore black tactical pants tucked into his combat boots, which were laced up tightly. A black, fitted long-sleeved shirt was tucked into his pants. His tactical pistol was holstered on a heavy-duty belt, dagger secured to his right thigh. He wore fingerless gloves and carried a fully assembled M4A1 carbine in his hands with a familiarity that wasn’t lost on Jono. A few extra magazines were secured to his belt, and he carried a duffel bag over one shoulder big enough to hide the assault rifle in. The shoulder strap of a tactical vest peeked out from it.
“This was the plan, remember?” Jono said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Personally, he’d rather spend Friday night working or at home with Patrick, not fighting to the death.
“I still don’t like it.”
Patrick came closer and dumped the duffel bag on the coffee table with a loudthump. Jono watched as he placed the assault rifle inside and zipped the duffel bag closed.
“I’m the distraction.”
“You’re the bait.”
“That, too.”
Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Jono, brows furrowed. “You don’t have any backup.”
“Now you know how I feel when you go haring off on your own,” Jono pointed out dryly. “And that’s a load of bollocks. I have you.”
“I don’t trust Tezcatlipoca. If it was just Tremaine I wouldn’t be as worried.”
“Makes two of us.” Jono got to his feet and moved around the coffee table to where Patrick stood. Jono curled a finger through a belt loop and tugged him closer. “There’s Fenrir if things go pear-shaped.”
Patrick tilted his head back so he could look Jono in the eye, hands coming up to rest on Jono’s shoulders. “You can’t let him out. Word might get back to Estelle and Youssef, and we don’t want them to know about him yet.”
“Word already is out. Lucien knows.”
“And if he tries to use that against us I’ll kick his ass.”
“You’re still in debt to him.”
A fact Jono absolutely loathed and which Patrick waved off. “We succeed with this coup and give him Manhattan, then I’ll have kept my promise to him. Debt erased.”
Jono kissed Patrick on the mouth, biting gently at his bottom lip before pulling away. “No more making deals with a devil unless Sage is the one working out the details.”
Patrick hooked his hand around the back of Jono’s neck and drew him back down for a deeper kiss. Jono obliged, drinking in the taste of him until Wade interrupted them when he walked out of the bedroom.
“Gross,” Wade said. “Stop making out where I can see.”
Jono broke the kiss and rolled his eyes. “You can sod off if you don’t like seeing two blokes kissing.”
Wade made a face. “I don’t care that you’re two guys. I just don’t like seeing adults make out. It’s like watching my mom kiss her boyfriend when she was still alive. No one wants to watch their parents make out.”
“We aren’t your parents but guess that makes you a kid if you’re complaining about adults,” Patrick said.
Wade scowled before slinking into the kitchen to open the cupboard Jono had stocked with a new supply of snacks. “I’m not a kid.”
“Good to know since you’re coming with me.”
