Page 114 of Fallen Rook

The food wasn’t in my preplanned list of dishes I deemed acceptable. Then again, not much had been planned nor acceptable since Enzo bulldozed his way into my life. Or, more accurately, since I barged into his.

“What’s the game plan?”

“The Bratva is planning to get a drug shipment under the Ferrantes’ nose. They have no idea the Ferrantes know about it and plan to raid the operation. Kill, maim, confiscate. The whole nine yards. We’ll make sure we’re there to catch them red-handed,” I told him.

Zeke whistled low. “Will all three brothers be in attendance?”

“Without a doubt.” I tried to ignore the nagging prickle in my chest.

I hadn’t lied to Enzo. I had taken a few days to figure out how to execute my deal with my Camorra informant. I’d been pressed to the mat for far too long, and it was time to take action. But now that I’d made my choice, I wasn’t backing out.

It was going to cost me my soul, yet I knew it was the right thing to do.

“By the way.” Zeke leaned a shoulder against one of the cabinets, crossing his arms nonchalantly. “Denise is still asking about that dinner you owe us.”

“Anytime, anywhere.” I kept my gaze glued to the microwave.

“And the keys to the Lake George house?” Zeke asked.

“Put them on your desk a week ago. Did you not see them?”

“I saw them. I just didn’t find the thank-you note underneath.”

That’s because I didn’t write one, and he damn well knew it. I ripped my gaze from the microwave, and we engaged in a silent stare-off.

“Thank you,” I said finally.

He nodded in satisfaction. “I forgot to ask who you brought over.”

“You didn’t forget.” I smiled, thinking Enzo would be proud of the unprompted facial expression. “You knew I’d never tell.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Cheese rolling from the hilltops. That Gloucester cheddar is pretty heavy.”

He laughed. “Is it serious?”

“Nah.” The microwave beeped, and I took the plate out. “Just a little something to pass the time.”

“You don’t usually take little somethings on weekends. Let alone on your birthday,” Zeke pointed out. “Don’t treat me like an idiot, and I won’t have to treat you like a liar.”

He was right that trying to bullshit my FBI superior was a rookie mistake, but I wasn’t inclined to give more details about my current flame. For one thing, it could get him—and me—killed. For another, I would never betray Enzo’s confidence when it came to his sexuality. It was the one line I wouldn’t cross.

I looked up at Zeke, dripping indifference and serenity. “I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. Yes, he is special to me. But no, it isn’t serious in any way. He has other attachments, and as you well know, so do I.”

“No, Tom, you don’t have any other attachments.” Zeke leaned close to my face, until I saw the black of his pupils. “Matt is dead. Has been for a long while. Move on.”

“I have.”

“Have you? Because from where I’m standing, it just looks like you’ve replaced him with something else you can never have.”

He was out of the kitchen before I delivered a scathing comeback.

Just as well, as I didn’t have one.

Matt’s eighth death anniversary was hardly a cause for celebration, but surprisingly, it didn’t hit me as hard this year. I did visit his grave. I had also taken Iris and Silas out for a bite and bought her a new washing machine. The old one broke down constantly, and fixing it every other month cost more than replacing it altogether.

I took care of the things Matt cared about the most. Still prioritized Silas’s birthday party, which was celebrated earlier this year for logistical purposes, and attended the stuffy bowling event. I even got him the new bike he wanted. I supported Matt’s legacy in any way possible. However, I could no longer pretend his being dead was a good excuse for my not living.