Page 60 of Fallen Rook

“Open up.”

“No.”

What the fuck did I do to warrant this kind of reaction? Was his fear of getting caught finally kicking in? That was the only issue I could anticipate.

That, and the fact you’re still investigating his case and will soon hurl his ass in prison.

No way had Enzo gotten wind of the latter. I kept my cards close to my chest as I pursued his prosecution.

“Enzo.” I plastered my forehead to his door, my breaths shredded with barely contained irritation. “I thought I’d made it clear I’m discreet and trustworthy.”

“Bro, for real. I’m not letting you fuck me. Go find another willing victim.”

“Just…just tell me what I did to upset you.” The crack in my voice made it sound foreign to my own ears.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. It wasn’t annoyance I was feeling. It was something else. Something I couldn’t pinpoint exactly, but warranted a physical reaction I’d never experienced before.

I realized my throat was dry and that I was beginning to really hate the color and texture of his door. I never wanted to see it again. Apathy had always been my best and only policy. I thought I had an abundance of it. But lately, some things had managed to slip under my skin.

No, not some things.

Someone.

“Tell me what you think I did, Ferrante.”

The door swung open again. His eyes were red but dry. They didn’t have that special Enzo glint that promised inappropriate jokes and lopsided grins.

“You wanna know what you did wrong?” He heaved.

“Yes.”

“You told me you were single, and today I found out that you’re married.”

“What?”

His expression hardened, and for the first time, I got to see Enzo, the enforcer. Not Enzo, the happy-go-lucky guy who made sure I smiled every day and genially yammered to me about his enema and shaving woes.

“I followed you.” He wiped his nose. “To Staten Island. I saw your wife. Your kid. Your life…” His throat bobbed, and he closed his eyes, turning away. “I saw everything, Tom.”

I was going to punch something.

Not him. Definitely not him. But something.

Maybe my own face. I certainly deserved it.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I ground out. A response so banal, such a cliché, I almost winced at my own words.

A sad smiled tugged at his lips. “It never is, right? Have a good life.”

He started closing the door, but I thrust my leg out instinctively, wedging it between the door and the frame. He paused, staring at my wingtip, his gaze traveling back up to my face.

“Careful now, Agent Rothwell. You don’t have a warrant, and this is my property. I can get you arrested.”

“I’ll take my chances.” I pushed all the way inside, closing the door behind me. “Let’s talk.”

I’d never explained myself to anyone. My private life remained precisely that—private. I’d been officially out since my early twenties, but kept a low profile about my sexuality. Even after Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed, I never volunteered any information about my life. Especially to my hookups, which was all Enzo was supposed to be.

I was now breaking more rules for him.