Chapter Ten
W ith a smirk, Wrath followed Rogue into the black gaping hallway.
What he hadn’t expected was for the big assassin to stop in his tracks, causing him to smack into Rogue’s muscled back. Wrath face-planted into the back of the man’s head.
Instead of jerking away, Wrath pressed his forehead into the back of Rogue’s hood-covered neck, placed his hands flat on the man’s upper back, and waited.
Rogue seemed to be frozen in place and that worked for Wrath. He’d stay like that all-damned night or until they got caught.
Rogue’s hand had reached back around and caught him as if to save him from stumbling.
It was a very telling move, and he wondered if Rogue realized how possessive and protective he was of him.
The assassin thought himself cold and uncaring but to him, everything about Rogue was just the opposite.
He just had to get him to see it in himself.
Someday, that would happen.
He had to believe that someday, Rogue would believe in himself.
“You good?” The words were growled and sent butterflies into his gut and reminded him that they’d kissed, and he wanted another.
“Mmm,” he agreed, not moving.
What? It felt good leaning against Rogue, drinking in the man’s scent, warmth, and hardness.
“Wrath,” Rogue muttered, and Wrath wanted to snicker, but he refrained.
Lifting his head, he reluctantly slid his hands away and stepped back.
Now was not the time for another kiss. He was the older of them and here he was acting like a horny teenager—on a job no less.
Sliding into assassin mode was easy for him, he’d been doing it for years.
“Let’s move,” Wrath murmured and stepped around Rogue, only to be stopped with a hand wrapped around his bicep.
He slanted Rogue a quick glance, but could not discern anything because just like him, the assassin wore a hooded mask. Not even Rogue’s eyes were visible because of nighttime and that was a shame—they were really nice eyes.
“Follow me,” the man ordered gruffly and because he loved watching Rogue in action, he acquiesced.
Tony and Doug sat on their knees with their hands resting on their laps. Neither of the two men had fought them.
It was only when Rogue listed out their crimes in that graveled voice that they started to sweat.
“It was only that one time,” Doug sniffled, and Tony looked away, guilt written all over the fucker’s face.
When Rogue stepped closer, Tony started begging.
“I’ll change! I swear!”
Wrath crouched down and pressed the barrel of his weapon into Tony’s forehead and the guy shut the fuck up.
He thought for a moment that Rogue would shoot them, but that was not the case.
Removing a small metal kit from his jacket, Rogue handed it to Tony.
“Make up a couple of hits.”
Tony’s eyes widened and he opened the case.
“Ooooweee,” the stupid fucker crowed like he’d won the lottery. Doug scooted closer and was more skeptical.
“What’s in it?”
“Heroin. I took it off the guy downstairs.”
Wrath smirked. That was true and he still felt admiration at the move Rogue had used to one-handedly knock the drug dealer out and steal his stash.
“Steve’s stuff?” Tony laughed and worked up a couple of needles.
“Why don’t you make more so you have it to last,” Rogue suggested.
Tony eagerly complied and made up a few spares.
Wrath leaned against the wall near the closed door inside the dirty and smelly apartment. This was Rogue’s show. If it were him, he would have put a bullet in each of their heads and been done with it.
Not Rogue, though, the assassin had a plan.
When the pair were high enough, Rogue stepped over, kicked them both until they were sprawled out, and then squatted next to each man to shoot them up with another needle.
Wrath watched, intrigued. “Talk to me,” he murmured.
“Their deaths can’t lead back to Melissa.”
“Who the fuck is Melissa?” A hot spike of jealousy fisted his gut.
Rogue threw him a look, but Wrath couldn’t decipher it because of that fucking mask. Ignoring him, Rogue turned back and pressed two fingers to Tony’s throat and then did the same with Doug.
“They’re dead,” Rogue said and dumped the metal box near Tony’s hand.
When he didn’t move, Rogue gripped his bicep and marched him out of the room like he was a two-year-old.
It set his teeth on edge, but he allowed it until they were outside. That was when he turned and hit a nerve point that would numb Rogue’s arm, and when the younger man gasped, Wrath stepped away.
And then he walked away instead of putting Rogue on his ass.
Did the man think his feelings were a fucking game?
He was halfway down the street when Rogue caught up to him.
“Wrath.”
A hand on his arm was meant to stop him, but Wrath avoided it. Rogue tried to grab him again, but again Wrath dodged. He could do that all damned night. Unless he wanted Rogue to catch him, there was no way in hell the man could.
“Melissa is the woman who hired me,” Rogue muttered, hurrying to keep up with his quick strides.
“You shouldn’t call people we work for by their names,” Wrath growled and whirled around on Rogue. “It makes you appear close to them.”
With one hand planted on Rogue’s chest, Wrath stiffened his arm to keep the man away.
They froze like that for a few seconds and then Rogue knocked his arm away, fisted the front of his shirt, and yanked him closer.
“The only one I’m close to is you.”
“That’s not true, what about Fisher and Echo?” he shot back just as angrily.
“They don’t count.”
Wrath let Rogue manhandle him back between two houses.
It was there in the dark with his back pressed to the stucco that his hood was yanked up and Rogue’s mouth slammed down on his.
His lip split, but Wrath welcomed Rogue’s angry kiss because it was also filled with desire.
Parting his lips, Wrath bit at Rogue’s mouth until the bigger man was rubbing against him—his hardened cock straining in his pants.
Gasping, Wrath wrenched his mouth away.
When Rogue eased back, they were both gasping for breath, trying to keep their sounds down. Rogue lowered his mask back down and Wrath followed suit.
He wasn’t letting this end there, that was for damned sure, and with an iron grip, Wrath locked his hand around Rogue’s wrist and pulled him through the darkness.