Page 122 of Fallen Rook

Tom had finally messaged me.

My heart leapt to my throat, pushing its way past the narrow channel.

Tomcat: Hey. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, we had visitors from the Chicago and L.A. bureaus.

Tomcat: You good?

Tomcat: Can you at least let me explain?

Tomcat: What did I say about you running away from us?

Was this asshole seriously making this about my behavior? His colleague nearly broke my nose today, after insinuating I would be gang-raped in prison, and Tom had not only ignored me, but also talked shit about my family to my face.

Seriously, screw him.

Tomcat: I’m sorry it had to be this way, but you need to be reasonable about it.

Tomcat: What was I supposed to do, hold your hand and introduce you as my boyfriend?

Tomcat: JESUS CHRIST ENZO ANSWER ME.

Me: Fuck you, Agent Rothwell. We’re done.

I turned off my phone and started driving.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Tom

I’d fucked up.

When I first saw him at the restaurant, I’d lost it.

Actually, that wasn’t true. I’d neglected my faculties even earlier, when our shoulders brushed briefly, while I was heading toward the front of the line to chide Sully for cutting it. Even then, the sizzling heat of goose bumps and delight took over me, a physical reaction I only had when I touched him.

I knew it was him simply through a brief touch of our shoulders through our clothes.

Then our eyes met, and I fucking lost it.

Enzo’s hair had been windswept, his lips puffy, his body corded in Greek god proportions, the planes of his features sun-kissed with grace and youth. Seeing him in a sea of ordinary people reminded me how unbelievably morbidly beautiful he was. Then those soft eyes lit up at the sight of me, and I remembered where we were and how fucked we’d both be if Sully, Zeke, and the two junior agents ever suspected he was more than just work for me. I’d told Zeke and Sully that Enzo was a dead end. If I acted chummy with him now, Sully would pick up the scent and might even do something destructive. Like tell the Ferrante brothers to try to create friction.

I’d done what needed to be done to protect both of us. That included not even texting him back, from fear anyone at the table would ask me who the contact Butterfly was.

Now I was sitting outside his apartment, my back pressed against his door, waiting for him to come back from wherever he was.

I knew Enzo’s office hours weren’t exactly regular and limited to the daytime, but still couldn’t help but wonder what kept him out at ten at night. Had he gone to meet someone else? The very thought made my stomach churn.

I checked his Instagram. No new grid photos. But one story. I looked at it. Just a black background and some text.

Just leave me alone. I said it was over, and I meant it.

Well, that was one way to break things off.

Draping my elbows on my knees, I let my head fall between my shoulders.

Fucking idiot. What have I done?

I definitely could’ve handled it better.