Page 33 of Fallen Rook

A few minutes later, I peered at my messages one more time. I had a feeling it was going to be the only thing to get me through the night.

Kid: Made you smile, didn’t I?

Kid: I’m off to try some suits for my wedding. Let me know if you want a dick pic from the dressing room. Great lighting there.

Kid: Oh, and check my Instagram. Bye. x

I huffed. He was deranged if he thought I’d check his Instagram just because he said so.

I checked his Instagram ten hours later, when I’d finally wrapped up my case, issued warrants, and made arrests. It didn’t ease the pain and sorrow I felt for the child, but at least the monsters who did it wouldn’t be able to hurt anybody else.

It did not escape me that all my other cases were running smoothly. The Ferrantes were a thorn in my side. I intended to shut down their operation before the year was out, though. And Enzo was the key to doing that. I’d start asking him questions soon. Next time we saw each other.

I didn’t wait until I was home. I checked my phone as soon as I was in the privacy of my car, punched in his username as I took my first sip of coffee.

Then proceeded to spit the coffee all over my lap.

He must’ve taken the photo in the same session he did when he sent me the picture of the rose in his mouth, because he was naked as the day he was born, looking at the camera, flashing his six-pack, tattoos, and general outrageous hotness, with nothing but whipped cream covering that gorgeous, thick cock of his.

The caption read:

Trying on different outfits for my next date with my boo. Is this too much?

#youknowwhoyouare #missyou #madeyousmile

A few different notions warred inside me.

I was amused. Also flattered. Enzo was gorgeous, funny, intelligent, and rightfully admired for his physique. And he wanted my sorry ass, even though I was a grumpy, cynical old man.

Worry—both pictures I saw of him had his inner wrists concealed from view. Was he okay? I wanted him to be okay. And that didn’t go hand in hand with my desire to put him in prison.

Anger—I’d told him not to talk about us, directly or otherwise. He was already breaking the rules, being his flighty, careless self.

Lastly, I didn’t fucking like that he was showing off his body to every Tom, Dick, and Harry.

More specifically—he could show his body to a Tom, and Tom’s dick. Harry and the rest of them could go fuck themselves.

The thirsty comments made me choke on the coffee and scald my tongue.

Celia9289: Don’t ask me the color of anything

Nycbaby_$: you can’t post this kind of photo and ask a calm question

Darrenday55: hey, I think we hit the same gym!! I should come say hi next time.

Jessiejordan: check your dms.

I was this close to reporting some of these perverted lowlifes.

I knew it wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be, because I didn’t mind him marrying Katya Rasputin. More accurately, I thought the union shouldn’t happen, but not out of possessiveness. She wasn’t a good match for him. He was putting his family before his happiness, and that was a stupid thing to do.

Me: Do you ever wear pants?

Kid: Only when I have to. Pants are a social construct.

I stared at the words, unsure what to say or do. An unfamiliar territory. I always knew what to say and always knew what to do.

Me: You’re breaking all the rules.