Page 166 of Fallen Rook

Fuck. If we could have just one quickie to help me pull through…

“No,” Tom said firmly into my mouth, mid-kiss. I laugh-whined against his lips. He always knew how to read my mind.

“Please.”

He gave me a gentle slap on the ass. “Go work on your shit, and call me when you’re ready.”

“What about a handjo—”

“Enzo.”

“Argh.” I forced myself to pull away, even though all I wanted was to drag him into my bed and fuck into the next millennium.

“You want the milk, you buy the cow,” he said primly.

“That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it! I just need one carton of milk!” I whined. “Or…a gallon or two.”

Did I really need to work on myself? I was fine.

Dr. Andrews’s voice trickled into the front of my mind. It had recently replaced my father’s ramblings.

To be able to give, you must learn to take, and to put your needs first.

Jesus fucking Christ. I guess it was just me and my hand today.

“You better not break any spines for bachelors in distress and follow any hot gym rats on Insta while I’m making myself better for you.” I stabbed a finger in his chest.

“I already said I’ll wait for you.” He brushed the tip of his nose against mine, holding me close.

I stole another quick peck on his lips. “I do expect you to keep stalking me, though. If not in real life, then at least on my socials.”

He mustered a smile, even though I knew now, more than ever, he didn’t feel like flashing one. And I loved him all the more, for all the sacrifices he was still making for me. For us.

“You can count on it, kid. Stalking you is what I do best.”

And I couldn’t explain it, but I knew, in that moment, that we were going to be okay.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Tom

“We found the Russian.” Zeke appeared at my door like a pissed-off mirage, crossing his arms over his chest.

It had been three days since the FBI arrested fifteen Bratva members and confiscated a hundred kilograms of cocaine.

Three days since Slava disappeared without a trace.

Three days since Enzo told me he needed time.

Three days in which I’d spent every waking moment covering my tracks and making sure there would be no blowback either to me or the Camorra.

Sprawling in my seat, I lifted a contemplative eyebrow. “Dead or alive?”

“The former. They really did a number on him.” Zeke pushed off the doorframe, entering my domain. “Had the word traitor carved onto his skin. Some body parts ripped apart. No lower jaw. Crime scene was a mess.”

“A mess you decided not to include me in?” I asked carefully. I should’ve been the first call to the scene. The fact that I hadn’t been made the hairs rise over my skin.

“It’s technically homicide, so not our jurisdiction.”