Page 73 of Hush
“Why?” Mike frowned.
Silvio licked his lips. One hip stuck out. “I’ve been thinking about you. About us.”
“Usis ancient history. Where’s your new boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend—”
“The guy who was drilling you inmykitchen? You cut him loose already?”
“We weren’tdating,” Silvio said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t care about him. Not like you—”
Mike laughed. “Save it. I’m done with you. I’ve moved on to far better things.” He kissed Tom’s cheek. “Call me never, Silvio.”
“Fuck off, Michael, you and your old-ass daddy.” Silvio sneered and flounced away.
“Sorry.” Mike’s eyes skittered away from Tom’s. “I didn’t know he’d be here.”
“It’s okay.” Tom cupped his cheek, and then kissed him. “And you were right. He is an asshole. He doesn’t deserve you at all.”
Mike bit his lip. “Wanna get out of here?”
“Yes.”
They waved to Kris and made their escape. Kris was reeling in an older man, a silver fox with a few years on Tom, who had the slick look of a lobbyist and was clearly eating out of Kris’s manicured hand. The rest of the teams had scattered.
They made out in shadowed overhangs and against buildings on the way back to Tom’s place, kissing and laughing and rutting against each other like they were teenagers. Etta Mae cooled their frantic pace, bounding down the hall for them when they got back. But then Tom ambushed Mike, and they ended up in the bedroom, clutching at each other, panting, kissing every inch of skin they could reach.
“You’re gonna kill me,” Mike finally breathed, after. “I’ve unleashed a monster. A ravenous sex-monster.” He nuzzled Tom’s neck, his collarbone. Kissed his chin.
“Get some rest. You need your strength. Round two begins soon.” Tom laughed as Mike groaned, hiding his face in Tom’s chest. He was smiling though. Tom could feel it, the curve of his lips against his skin.
Tom fell asleep with his forehead pressed to Mike’s, their noses brushing, trading sleepy kisses until they both drifted off.
Chapter 16
He got the text Thursday morning.
The target.
The location.
The time.
The text came from a new number, but that was normal. His handler used burner cell phones, impossible-to-trace throwaways paid for in cash. This was another DC number, a long line of DC numbers, meaningless digits on the screen.
He knew it was authentic, and from his contact, the man who had hired him for this hit, because of the code: 621. Added to the end of all texts and communications, it was an easy way to validate the authenticity of the message, and the sender.
If 621 was in the message, it was legitimate. If not…
Time to pack up and get out of town.
But, finally. After months. From the first phone call, all the way back in Ukraine until now, after all the waiting, the bullshit in DC, living like an immigrant just learning how to bumble his way around bananas and the Metro—
He finally had everything. The who, where, and when.
Only a few days to go.
Chapter 17
