Page 39 of Fallen Rook

Right now, they were the only thing keeping me going.

Tom shook his head. “Enzo…”

I knew FBI agents worked insane hours, but I also knew people made time for shit they prioritized. Fucking me was low on his to-do list. I was already feeling disposable and on edge. Begging him to come home with me seemed like just another thing to dampen my mood and sink my self-worth further.

Resisting the urge to itch the back of my neck, which I could already feel flaring into another bout of the disgusting rash that’d take over my entire back, I gave it one last try.

“Look, I’m already here, and I had a shitty week. Are we doing this or not?”

Tom clasped his jaw, working it back and forth, and I sensed an internal battle frothing its way up the surface. He wanted to say no, maybe even needed to say no, to prove something to himself, but I had a feeling he, like me, wanted this.

Finally, he opened his mouth. “I’ll see you Fri—”

“Nah, fuck that.” I made a show of jerking my cigarette pack out of my pocket, produced one cigarette, tossed it on the ground, and crushed it with the tip of my boot. “We’re done.”

I turned around and stomped away.

Chapter Thirteen

Tom

I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

It was the purest, most inconceivable form of insanity I’d ever committed.

And yet here I was.

Breaking my own rules.

Shifting my schedule.

Deserting my carefully laid plans.

Inserting myself into a situation without a controlled environment.

Putting my career on the line.

And my morals, ethics, and principles on hold.

For a kid.

An engaged, criminal kid.

For the third time in less than a month.

After an hour of pacing the same perimeter, I finally stepped into the reception of Enzo’s luxurious building. A stout security guard with droopy eyes and a three-day stubble was slouched behind a computer screen, the blue light illuminating his comatose expression.

“FBI.” I flashed my badge in his sleepy face. His jaw slacked, potato chip crumbs tumbling onto his wrinkled uniform. “Going up to the tenth floor. Vincenzo Ferrante’s apartment.”

He swallowed hard, nodding. “O-of course.”

Idiot. These were the people who were hired to protect the residents of this building? Good thing Enzo was good with a knife and a gun.

“I’ll need you to swipe your card at the elevator,” I said matter-of-factly.

He ripped his ass from his seat and called the elevator with his card. I stepped inside and gave him a stern look. “You never saw me.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir.”