Chapter Two Enzo
Chapter Two
Enzo
Supervisory Special Agent Rothwell had been all over my ass for the past three years, clingier than an XS condom.
I mean, sure, he was tasked with bringing my family down, and I was the enforcer.
But I liked to refer to him as my stalker, since he seemed to concern himself specifically with me.
I literally couldn’t take a piss without his Clark Kent face and nerdy, thick-rimmed glasses popping into my vision.
He was always there, skulking around, watching me from a rearview mirror, the front of a coffee shop, behind the warm towels rack at my gym’s sauna.
Maybe he wasn’t here for me this time? Maybe he was gay…? I mean, he could be. The only boner I knew Tom Rothwell to have was for imprisoning the Ferrantes, though. Which obviously meant we weren’t exactly chummy.
But why would he follow me to a random club? He knew me better than to expect I’d flay a victim in front of an audience.
My lungs squeezed out their remainder of measly air as the graveness of the situation dawned on me.
The straitlaced federal agent had just killed the dude who tried to blackmail me.
With his bare hands.
And didn’t so much as blink.
In fact, he continued looking calm, self-possessed, and completely unfazed by the entire ordeal.
Maybe I was just imagining it?
I looked down. Cash was still here. Still dead.
I pinched my own wrist. Hard. Glanced between Agent Rothwell and Cash again.
This wasn’t a hallucination, or a nightmare. This was real.
What in the ever-loving fuck?
This was a bad, bad time for my dick to suddenly wake up. Nonetheless, I realized I was painfully hard, my pulse thumping against the side of my cock.
Adrenaline. It was just the adrenaline. And those steel blue eyes.
No. Not the eyes, Enzo.
Snapping into action, I tucked myself in, pulled up my sweatpants, and slipped my hand into my pocket to rearrange myself.
“I’m talking to you,” Tom said in his haughty, princely tone.
“Hey, bro.” I crouched, prying Cash’s phone out of his pocket and casually slipping it into my hoodie’s pocket. “Thanks for the help. That was…”
Heroic.
Brave.
Romantic as fuck.
“…pretty dope,” I finished lamely. I still couldn’t compute what just happened. The surreal last few minutes slowly worked their way into my conscience.
“He was a risk to a member of the public,” Tom drawled in contempt, stepping back from me. The patronizing scowl of a villain headmaster at a wizarding school returned to his face. A face that was rather stunning.
The motherfucker was hot, and not in the same way I was.
While I looked like a Magic Mike fan favorite, all sculpted, tan muscles and floppy, thick hair, he looked like a goddamn Hollywood star.
With a preppy haircut, translucent sapphire eyes, lean, athletic form, and a stoically indestructible air about him.
He was almost my height, and I had a slight obsession with his popped-collar peacoat and suit combo.
He dressed his age—which I’d put somewhere in his mid to late thirties—and always looked put together.
Not just physically. Internally. Everything-lly.
I stood upright, still dizzy. I was used to being around corpses, and Cash’s lifeless body lying between us didn’t faze me. It did, however, throw me off that someone was trying to out me. And that the person to kill Cash was a federal agent tasked with bringing me down.
“Clean this up.” Tom pointed at Cash like he was a flaming bag of dogshit I’d left at his doorstep.
“Way ahead of you, buddy.” My thumbs were already flying over my phone screen, ordering my soldiers to get rid of the body.
No one was going to think twice about the location being outside of a gay club.
As the Camorra’s enforcer, I visited anywhere and everywhere to deliver the organization’s message. “Done.” I pocketed my phone.
It was a little too late to feign innocence and claim I had no idea what cleaning up a body looked like.
Tom continued looking put off by my existence. Loaded silence unfurled between us.
“So, ah…why’d you do it?” I took off my hat and pushed my fingers through my hair.
“As I said,” Tom uttered slowly through clenched teeth, “he was a threat to a member of the public.”
“You could’ve just arrested him.”
“He was armed and ready to shoot.”
“Injure him, then.” I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I also couldn’t understand his behavior. And if he was so sure of the way he handled it, why did he ask me to get rid of the body?
Tom’s scowl deepened. “Do you have a problem with how I handled the situation, Ferrante?”
“No!” I was sweating, and I didn’t even know why. “It was just…out of character, that’s all.”
“You don’t know my character.”
Yeah, no shit. He was a mystery wrapped in an enigma.
No matter how much me and my brothers tried to learn about his life, about his weaknesses, to get him to flip and become a dirty fed, we always ended up at square one.
The man was an island, robotic to his core, with disturbingly dead eyes and a reputation to match. Without a family, a life, a home.
My working theory was that he went back to his recharging station after his workday was over.
“Thank you,” I spluttered again.
He just stared at me like I imagined Satan did a second before he sucked his victim’s soul dry.
Why was he still here?
Why was I?
An unfamiliar notion tore at my chest. I felt more vulnerable than I did ten minutes ago, with my cock in a stranger’s mouth and a gun pressed against a major artery.
“Are you gay?” I blurted out.
I felt my cheeks burning. Okay, that was weird. I wasn’t really the blushing type. But I guess nothing was normal about tonight.
He gave me another imperturbable, wry stare. “Bi.”
I mulled it over in my head. To think of him as a sexual being was strange. He was always just SSA Rothwell to me. My hot, cranky stalker whom I spotted behind bushes and building every now and again, like my own, screwed-up Where’s Waldo?.
“Cool, man.” I flashed him one of my panty-dropping grins. “I don’t know what I am.”
“An idiot,” he deadpanned.
I’d never seen this man smile. Doubted he was capable of such bodily function.
My fingers twitched to hug him in gratitude, but I had a feeling he’d break every bone in my body if I tried.
“That’s…um, not unwarranted, I guess. Considering the current circumstances.
Well, thanks again,” I said a third time, trying to figure out if this was an elaborate FBI trap.
I didn’t think it was. He’d literally killed someone.
Put his career and reputation—maybe even freedom—on the line.
For me. No one had ever done that before.
Tom grunted at the fact I spoke to him again, tugging his black leather gloves up his fingers one at a time, the picture of tranquility and dark efficiency. “What you did was completely reckless, Ferrante. Do your damn research before you shove your cock into a stranger’s mouth.”
“I had a day. It was Dad’s funeral.”
“I know.” Of course he knew. He knew everything about my life. “You didn’t like the bastard, so that’s no excuse. Do better next time.”
I nodded. “I will. Sorry. I mean, thanks.”
“Stop thanking and apologizing.”
“Okay. Sorr—um.”
He shook his head, turned around, and started walking away.
Something weird happened to me.
I was slammed with this inexplainable, desperate need for him not to regret saving my ass.
I wanted him to like me.
To be my friend.
Okay, fine, I didn’t want him to be my friend. I wanted him to suck me off.
But he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d ever get on his knees for anyone, so I was fine with sucking his cock.
A favor for a favor, so to speak.
My mouth exploded with saliva, and my cock twitched at just thinking of what he was hiding in those tailored designer pants.
Maybe my libido was fine. Maybe I just had a particular taste for dangerous, enchanting delicacies.
I pushed off the wall, chasing him.
It was time to find out.