Page 129 of Fallen Rook

The marshal grinned smugly. “Not yet. He’s a fresh fish. Been here for less than half an hour.”

“Leave us alone for a sec.”

Sully hesitated for a beat before joining the marshal. They slinked across the hallway, disappearing through heavy doors.

I didn’t know why it felt so surreal to be in this setting. Me, sitting behind bars, where I undoubtedly belonged. Him, a squeaky-clean federal agent, on the other side of it, finally having me where he’d wanted me for three years. After an endless game of cat and mouse.

Still, everything about it felt wrong.

It was only last night that he’d held me so gently I fought hard not to weep.

Only ten hours ago that he’d fucked me slow and raw, never breaking eye contact, his sweat dripping into my face, down my chin, like the juicy nectar of a forbidden fruit.

Only six hours ago that I’d crawled from his bed with great reluctance after spending the night at his place, burrowing my nose into the hoodie I stole from him, to earn myself a few more moments of bliss.

The only reason I hadn’t been wearing it today was because Katya was landing in New York this evening for the final wedding preparations, and I was afraid she’d smell another man’s cologne on me. But lately, I’d wanted to get caught. Wanted to face the carnage of my actions head-on.

I wanted to tell the world that he was mine, even though it wasn’t the truth.

This whole morning had been catastrophically bad, from start to finish. Luca had managed to get some of our soldiers released on bail, only to have another wave get arrested. I’d been collecting protection money from eight in the morning—I even had to skip the gym—before I got detained. And not only did I get arrested for the stupidest charge known to mankind, but the cops who read me my Miranda rights also decided to beat the crap out of me for shits and giggles. I got it. They had a lot of pent-up rage after all the mayhem my family had caused over the years. But that shiner was going to look fucking awful in the engagement pictures Katya was insisting we take tomorrow.

If I got out by tomorrow.

This wasn’t my first rodeo, so I knew how the next forty-eight hours would go—central booking, arraignment, then either freedom or a bus to Rikers. I really needed to talk to my lawyer.

Tom assessed me from the opposite side of the bars, cool azure eyes raking me from head to toe. I had a feeling he was waiting for me to flash him my get-out-of-jail-free card. The occasion certainly was fitting. I had the card with me at all times, like he’d asked.

He was high if he thought I was gonna waste it on a simple extortion charge.

Thrusting my chin out, I met his gaze head-on.

“Ferrante,” he drawled. Cold. Clinical. Indifferent.

“Rothwell.”

“I see the cops roughed you up.”

His gaze lingered on my shiner, my fat lip, and the bump on my forehead. Gently. So softly I could practically feel it like the soothing pads of his fingers.

“Oh, you mean these love bites?” I licked my busted lip, flicking a piece of dust from my knee. My handcuffs clinked at the movement. “Probably read my Tinder profile and knew what I was into.”

That earned me a small smile that felt like he’d injected sunshine straight into my fucking veins.

“Did you get the officers’ names?”

“Does the pope wear a funny hat?” He didn’t say anything, so I did. “You don’t look surprised to see me.”

“I’m not,” he confirmed. “Because I’m the one who put you here.”

His words detonated inside my chest. An ache spread like venom across it. I breathed through my nose, swallowing back a gasp of pain.

What did he mean by that? He put me here?

Tom’s frosty demeanor remained. “Wait here; I’ll see what I can do.”

Like I could go anywhere.

Tom vanished, but at least his lapdog, Sully, wasn’t here to taunt me. I sat back on the dingy bench and closed my eyes, trying to tell myself it was a bad joke.