Page 63 of Toxic Devotion
“Rome,” he said, giving Neil the stink eye.
“Is the spook driving you crazy?” Rome asked, a lilt of amusement in his voice.
“He’s driving me up the fucking wall. One second, I want to kill him, the next I want to fuck him. It’s not exactly productive.”
Rome’s snort of laughter didn’t help.
He heard rustling over the phone and then a deep groan.
“Rome?Rome,” Marco barked.
“What?”
“Where are you?”
“I… uh…”
Neil leaned close to whisper, “He’s seeing a King. Name’s Juno.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re fucking a King?”
No fucking wonder Juno had been trying to talk him out of it yesterday. Fuck. Why the hell was he only finding out now? That was valuable information.
Rome’s sigh made him curse again.
“Couldn’t you have told me that before I went begging to King? Would’ve been so much easier—”
“No,” Rome snapped. “I’d never use Juno like that.”
Not looking at Neil was hard as fuck because he could feel the man’s tension. It was almost fucking palpable. The man’s thoughts, though? Un-fucking-readable.
“I just meant he could’ve smoothed shit out,” he grumbled.
“That’s not what you meant.”
“Cazzo!No, it wasn’t. I’m a bastard, the least I can do is admit it.” He fought back a sigh. “I’m sending you an address and if you’re not here within twenty minutes, I’ll send Neil after you, and you know he won’t be above shooting you to get you out of Juno’s bed.”
He hung up, his shoulders raised as he refused to look at Neil, but Neil didn’t say a word. He just got up and walked into the kitchen.
His hands were fucking shaking. Neil shouldn’t have told him. Now was the exact wrong fucking time.
He went to look out the window and the second he saw Rome park and step out of a car, he headed for the door. He waited in the doorway, eyes narrowing when Rome came walking down the hallway.
“I’m still a bit pissed at you,” Marco said.
Rome ignored him and pushed past him to get into the apartment. Marco let the door fall shut and followed Rome inside.
“I mean, really? Seeing a King? You know how many doors that could open for me? For us?”
“None,” Rome said with a tone that left no room for arguing.
Marco sighed but stopped talking. They walked into the living room, and he could practically see Rome’s wheels turning as he ran his gaze over the place. He was sure the man would come to the same conclusion he had; this wasn’t a CIA safehouse.
He snapped his head around when he heard soft footsteps and saw Neil coming out of the kitchen, a steaming mug in hand.
“Rome,” Neil said and sat down on one of the couches.
“Neil,” Rome said with a sigh, then sat down across from Neil.