Illicit (The Agents), page 3
The next time was when I made a bad choice with a fake ID. That was the day he broke me.
And I’m back.
Rocco’s apartment looks different today.
His sofa is nicer, his TV is bigger, and the whole place is messier.
Goodness, is it messy.
“Don’t start,” Rocco mutters as he slams the door behind us, locking me into the small space with him.
How the hell did this happen?
This is torture.
I’m trapped in hell with Rocco. I watch him unload his pockets along with his gun and badge. I might have the backbone to meet someone like Jules in a bar during daylight hours, but I have no desire to walk around the French Quarter at night by myself. At least he took me back to my car to get my backpack, but he didn’t trust me to follow him back to his place and made me come with him.
Smart man. I would’ve driven back to Mississippi and broken every speed limit on the way.
I might talk a big game to keep my shit together in front of Rocco, but I was raised by Tim and Annette Coleman. They scared the shit out of us to instill stranger danger at a young age. It never wore off.
I dig deep and channel a bit of Sammie’s bitchy attitude. “Look, you’re the one who butted into my meeting today, dragged me out of The Carousel, and drove me forty-five minutes in the opposite direction of my car. I have the right to start about anything I want. And let me tell you, Annette would have a fit if she saw the state of this place. I heard you’re moving back to Miami. I’d say good luck with that, but Landyn will be so happy you’re there, she might just clean for you.”
“Don’t give me shit about this place. You know I’m in the middle of a move.” Rocco has the nerve to look me up and down before shaking his head. And it’s not the way a woman wants a man she’s obsessed with to look at her. Definitely not the way I thought a man would look at me when I put on this dress today solely for attention. “Fuck, no wonder Robichaux was so keen on working with you until I showed up. What in the hell are you up to?”
My feet hurt from walking four blocks in these shoes. I flop down in the middle of his sofa and reach down to unclasp my wedges. “I’m in the middle of a project.”
His thick brows rise. “A project? What kind of project includes meeting with a lowlife like that?”
I kick my shoes to the side and prop my feet on the coffee table, nudging a remote and empty sports bottle to the side. “I’m about to graduate, again, in case you need a reminder since you missed my first graduation. I’m wrapping up a semester-long project I need to get my masters.”
“You think I don’t know what’s going on in your life? You might’ve ignored me for almost two years, but I talk to your parents more than you do. I know your every move, Teagan.”
I roll my eyes. “Sucking up to Annette. Why am I not surprised?”
“They’re worried about you. Everyone is. What happened to the job you had lined up in Miami?”
I aim a generic smile toward the angry man. I hate that he feels familiar ... like home. “Even though it’s none of your business, I changed my mind. I’m moving back to New York.”
“Your mom is upset. Like really fucking upset, Teagan. You ditched a job at one of the biggest cable news outlets in the country in the same city as your family.”
I cross my arms. “No, it was the Miami office of the largest news outlet in the country. That’s a big difference. And I had a better opportunity come up. It might not be the biggest or the best, but I landed a gig at the headquarters of a startup news organization in New York City. Print is dying off right along with the oldest generation, and no one finds cable news trustworthy. I couldn’t pass up the chance to work in New York. Location, location, location. What can I say? I leveled up before my career ever started.”
“That’s not what you want,” he argues. As if he has any clue what I really want. “You’ve never wanted that. The only person I know who values family more than you is Landyn. Moving to the Big Apple makes no sense.”
“You moved to the Big Easy. What’s the difference?”
He takes a step and drops his arms. “The difference is I didn’t have a choice, and I’m moving back. If I could’ve gone back sooner, I would have. What I’m talking about is you flipping off a job that would’ve allowed you to stay in Miami near your family.”
I hate that he knows me so well. I decide to tell him a version of the truth. “Things change.”
He settles back on his heels and stares down at me. “You have interesting timing, Teag.”
Oh, no. He does not get to do this. I have no desire to address the elephant in the room. “Carrying a federal badge has really made your head swell, Roc. Not everything is about you.”
But one thing about Rocco, he always tells it like it is. “Bullshit. I’d put the very small fortune I’ve saved to buy a house on the fact it’s all about me.”
I’m not doing this. I can’t. “Think what you want, I don’t care. All I care about is getting back to my car. I have an hour-and-a-half drive back to school.”
“You’re impossible,” he mutters and pulls his cell from his pocket. “And you’re not going anywhere until you tell me about Robichaux.”
My feet drop to the floor to stand. “Who are you calling?”
He doesn’t look away from his phone. “Don’t worry. I’m not calling Tim. At least not until you tell me what’s going on with your buddy, Jules. I’m ordering dinner.”
Even though stuffing my swollen feet back into my shoes is the last thing I want to do—and there’s the fact I’m starving—I can’t stay.
I grab my sandals and hoist my backpack over my shoulder. I never go anywhere without my laptop. I thought at this point I’d be amassing lengthy notes from everything I got Jules Robichaux to tell me about Heath Hayes.
But instead, Rocco scared off the one person who knows where the elderly man really is.
“Take me back to my car. Since I didn’t get the information I needed from Robichaux, I have to regroup.”
Rocco taps his screen a few more times before leveling his moody, whiskey eyes on me. “I’ll give you two choices.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, but no. We need to go back to ignoring each other for the rest of time. I much preferred that to whatever this is.”
Like the invasive jerk he is, he ignores me. “One, I’ll take you back to your car.”
“Great. I pick that one. Let’s go.”
“Then I’ll call your dad and tell him the whole thing. Have fun dealing with the aftermath.”
My expression falls. He knows how not fun that would be.
“Two,” he goes on. “You can stay here tonight, eat the kung pao chicken I just ordered you, and tell me what you’re up to and everything you know about Robichaux.”
I offer him the palm of my hand. “I’m a grown-ass woman. I don’t need your choices or your ultimatums. If I have to call an Uber, I will.”
Rocco says nothing, but he moves to yank my backpack down my arm.
“Hey! What are you doing?” I call, but he doesn’t listen.
He stalks around me and disappears into a short hall behind the kitchen. When I round the corner, Rocco is stuffing my bag on the top shelf of his closet. I’d need a step stool to reach it.
“Give that back,” I demand.
He turns and has the nerve to smile.
It takes my breath away.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that expression on his face.
Too long.
I love it. It reminds me of simpler times. When I was young and…
We were friends.
A pang hits my chest, and something inside me dies just a little bit more. But it has nothing to do with alcohol or obsessions.
Twenty-two months, one week, and three days.
I’m so lame, but I miss that smile.
Hell, I just miss him.
“Please don’t do this,” I whisper.
“What? Save you from yourself?” His words are not a whisper. “You can avoid me for the rest of your life and hate me forever, but I’ll never not do that.”
At the worst time ever, my stomach growls.
His beautiful smile shrinks into a satisfied smirk. “And you’re hungry. Just one more reason to stay when your favorite takeout is on the way.”
My eyes fall shut as I exhale. I hate that he hasn’t forgotten my favorite takeout.
“Go take a load off. I’ll get you a beer.” I open my eyes as he keeps bossing me around. “I’ll find you something to wear, because you’re not wearing that for the rest of the night.”
“If I have a beer, I can’t drive home.”
Rocco moves to his dresser and yanks out a T-shirt and pair of sweatpants. They fly through the air, and I barely catch them when they hit my chest. “Get comfortable and prepare to spill everything you know.”
“Rocco—” I start.
But he interrupts me when he stops right in front of me. “Teagan.”
My arms fall to my sides. “What now?”
He pauses.
I brace.
And it’s a good thing, because I’m not prepared for what he says next.
He raises a hand and gives the end of one of my loose curls a gentle yank. “I hate that you hate me, so you’re not going to want to hear this.”
I’m not sure how much more I can handle today.
His gaze roams my face before settling back on my eyes. “I wasn’t lying before. I missed you. I don’t care why you’re here or how much you want to run away from me—it’s good to see you. I promise to get to the bottom of whatever the fuck you’re up to, so you’re not going anywhere tonight.”
And with that, he stalks out of his bedroom and slams the door.
My shoes hit the floor.
My ass lands on the bed.
And I fall to my back.
In the matter of a few short hours, all my hard work went down the drain, and I’m in Rocco’s bed.
Fine.
I’m not in it. That’s a pipe dream.
I’m on it.
And not in the way it played out in my fantasies.
But he missed me.
I already knew that. I’ve saved every text and voicemail he’s sent. I even revisit them often.
That’s painful enough, but this is something I can’t handle.
3
DEAL
Teagan
Ipush the remnants of rice and bits of chicken and pepper around my plate. In the time I’ve put off talking, Rocco ate most of his beef and broccoli and the rest of my kung pao. He’s banging around in his messy kitchen among boxes. We ate off paper plates since his things are packed.
He swipes my plate out of my hands, takes it to the kitchen, and dumps it in the trash.
Rocco changed before the food arrived. We pretty much match. We’re both in T-shirts, but he threw on a pair of gym shorts. I’m the one wearing his gray sweatpants, which is a disappointment. I had to roll them over three times to keep them up. They’re soft and comfortable, even though I’d rather he be the one wearing them.
I think I was seventeen when I realized the beauty of Rocco in gray sweatpants.
It’s a sight to see and will forever be burned on my brain. So much so, I’m unimpressed with the phenomenon my friends fawn over. No one measures up.
Par for the course.
Fucking Rocco.
For the last two years of almost twelve he’s been in my life, I’ve ignored him, shunned him, and blocked him. I thought going cold turkey would be the only cure. Like any addict, I cut off my obsession at the root.
But I was kidding myself.
I had no idea how strong an addiction could be.
Twenty-two months of no Rocco Monroe was barely a drop in the bucket.
I quit my sorority and immersed myself in school so deep, my parents have never been prouder. I had two mediocre boyfriends who were so basic, it makes me want to poke my eyes out just thinking about the experiences. And I logged more volunteer hours than I can count.
I’m beginning to think my addiction has no cure.
The man standing over me with two fresh beers is nothing like he was the first day I laid eyes on him. I take a bottle, silently grateful, even though this means he’s never going to take me back to my car tonight.
I’m stuck in my own personalized, sadistic brand of hell.
I watch him take another long pull as he plants his very fine, firm ass on the messy coffee table in front of me. His apartment isn’t big, but there’s plenty of space for him to sit across the room rather than sucking the oxygen between us.
With his beer in his hand, he widens his legs, leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, and focuses his light brown eyes on me. “Since you’ve gone silent on me, I’ll go first and tell you everything I know about Jules Robichaux. When I’m done, you’d better explain why you’re in New Orleans pretending to be someone you’re not meeting a lowlife like him. Depending on your answer, I might or might not call your dad.”
My blood boils. “Don’t give me an ultimatum. Just because you’re an agent now doesn’t mean shit when it comes to me. And since when did you become so holier than thou? They handed you a federal badge and you turned into Brax and Micah. Maybe even a little bit of King. You refuse to see it, but I’m all grown up and can take care of myself. I knew I was sneaking into your backyard when I set up a meeting with Robichaux. But, statistically speaking, the odds were in my favor. New Orleans is a big place. The chances of running into you were quite literally almost none. You ruined months of hard work.”
I watch him put his beer to his lips one more time before he focuses on me and ignores everything I just said. “I’ve kept tabs on Robichaux for the last year. He skims the surface of so many cases in this city then disappears without a trace. He’s like the rat you know is there but never leaves a trail. His name is mentioned by suppliers, dealers, pimps, bar owners, and even a manager of the transit authority who was arrested last year on distribution.”
I swallow a sip of my beer before wiping a drip from my bottom lip and mull that over. “Huh.”
Rocco narrows his eyes but proves he’s on a roll and keeps talking. “I’ll tell you what he’s not known for. Volunteer work, track and field, journalism, or sorority parties. Though I wouldn’t put it past him to dive into the last one if the opportunity presented itself. Which means the two of you shouldn’t be in the same city, let alone the same room together. I want to know why you left the small, southern town you love so much, dressed like you’re auditioning at strip bars in the French Quarter, and pretending to be someone you’re not.”
I hike a brow. “For your information, I dropped out of my sorority my junior year and haven’t been to a party since. That goes to show you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Teagan, who is Stella Hayes, and what the fuck are you up to?” he demands.
I set my beer next to him and wipe the condensation on his sweatpants that I’m considering not giving back. If he’s going to hold me here against my will, I think I deserve a souvenir from being subjected to his cruel and unusual punishment.
When I say nothing, he sits up straight, and his bottle lands with a thud next to mine. Tension hangs between us—a mix of his frustration and my sheer determination to not be pathetic.
But he doesn’t give up, and this time I know he’s serious. His next threat isn’t empty. I know he can and will follow through. “If Heath or Stella Hayes are real people, I’ll know everything about them two minutes after I get to work tomorrow morning. If you think that won’t happen, you haven’t been paying attention for the last twenty-two years.”
I roll my eyes.
“You know I’m right, Teagan. Tell me, or I’ll figure it out on my own. Either way, I’ll know exactly what you’re up to in approximately ten hours.”
I cross my arms. “And what are you going to do when you figure it out? You can threaten to call my dad all you want—I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Jules was looking at you like you were his last meal before he pimped you out to the underworld of New Orleans. You weren’t doing anything illegal, but you were treading in dangerous waters. You know it.”
“So you do think I’m an idiot. Thanks for your confidence. I already told you I wasn’t going to go anywhere with him.”
Rocco drags a hand down his face. “I’m moving in a few days and have a shit ton to wrap up before I head back to Miami. I do not have time to investigate you too.”
It’s not lost on me that telling Rocco might work in my favor.
That’s a heavy might, but I could talk him into it.
There’s no way I can ask my dad without my parents freaking out on me. They’re already upset that I ditched the job in Miami to go to New York City. My mother hovers, and my dad is overprotective. Even so, Sammie is a shit show on normal days. In the past, they were too distracted by her to worry about me.
Until I announced my job change. You’d think I was the one who got knocked up and ditched by her deadbeat boyfriend who made a million empty promises to love and cherish her forever and ever. Sammie is unemployed and on her way to being a single mom. My parents have enough on their plates. Aside from one rogue semester during college, I’m boring. My sister is the one who keeps them up at night.
“There’s no way you can find out everything in two minutes.” It’s a stretch, but it’s my only leverage at the moment. And it doesn’t matter what happened two years ago. I know Rocco is the only one in my life who won’t shut me down and might actually help.
There’s that might again.
“Don’t underestimate me, Teag.”
“Don’t underestimate the work I’ve put into this project.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never once underestimated you, taken you for granted, or doubted what you can accomplish, but I am the one with access to government files.”
“You won’t find anything on Stella Hayes,” I tell him the truth. “She’s never been processed, arrested, or fingerprinted. You’d have to put in the time the old-fashioned way.”
