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“Gone,” he said shortly.

I raised a brow. “Gone where? Does he come here all the time? Is this his place? Or is it just somewhere he stays the night from time to time?”

The smile stayed plastered onto the man’s face, but his eyes changed. For a brief moment, his gaze flickered around the room as if he was waiting for someone to jump out. When he looked at me again, I stared him down, waiting for an answer.

He shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m sure Mr. Vitale can answer any questions you have for him.”

Right. I wasn’t going to get a damn thing out of this guy. Nodding, I stared at him until he exited the suite as quickly as humanly possible. Shaking my head, I doctored up my coffee and looked at the feast that had been left for me. I didn’t want to eat the shit Enzo had ordered, but my stomach cramped and growled, making it apparent that it didn’t give a damn what I wanted.

I plucked up a piece of toast and went in search of my phone. It was right where I’d started, sitting on the bedside table like I’d put it there, but I was damn sure I hadn’t. Did Enzo do that?

I snatched my phone up and looked at the time. “Shit. Gotta get to work.”

Rourke was going to kill me if I was late. I ignored the slight pounding in my head, jogged to the breakfast cart, and secured myself a plate. Climbing into the elevator, I requested an Uber while I shoveled eggs and bacon into my mouth like a starving person. When the doors opened, a woman stood in front of them and pulled a face at me. I wiped my breakfast off my face, smiled with stuffed cheeks, and mumbled an apology as I shuffled past her.

I dumped my plate on the check-in counter. “Sorry, I don’t know where that’s supposed to go. If Enzo Vitale comes back, can you give him a message?”

The woman blinked at me. “Um, yes, sir.”

“Actually, I should write it down.”

She slid me a sticky notepad, and I scribbled out a quick message. When I passed it back over, she ripped it off and stuffed it into an envelope. I had to admit; I was impressed she didn’t read it. I would have.

“Will that be all, sir?”

“Yep. Thanks,” I said.

The entire ride back to my car I couldn’t stop thinking about Enzo. He was a weird, neat freak, asshole, but damn, I couldn’t get him out of my brain. My cock begged for another round. He was a dangerous, wild thing that had no social norms to adhere to. Yet, I couldn’t think about anything else but his hand on my hip and his voice growling in my ear.

“Oh, get the fuck out of my head already!”

“Excuse me?” The driver looked up into the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowed.

“Sorry, talking to myself.”

The man frowned. “If you’re on drugs right now, I’m putting you out of my car. I’m not dealing with that shit again,” he muttered.

I groaned inwardly and apologized profusely until he stopped glaring. Great, I was starting to make people think I was crazy. Maybe I was losing my mind because how else had I ended up in this situation? From tracking Enzo Vitale to taking his cock, when had I decided that was a good decision?

Get him out of your head. That was the first and last time that’s going to happen.

I shoved all thoughts of Enzo Vitale far, far away from me as I jogged to my car. Time was ticking by, and I needed to focus. I parked haphazardly, rushing into my apartment after I glanced at the time on my phone. I pulled on my uniform, scratched my cat Penelope behind his perfect ears, fed him, and ran out of my place like my ass was on fire.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the precinct. I clocked in and climbed into the passenger seat of my squad car, panting. Rourke glanced over, his dark brow raised as he looked me up and down. I shut my door and stared right back at him.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re late.”

I groaned. “Don’t start. I had a late night.”

Rourke grunted. “I can see that. There’s a mark.” He pointed to his neck with his pen. “Right there.”

I stared at him, horrified, for all of one second before I snatched up my phone and stared at my reflection in the camera. He was right. It wasn’t a hickey or anything like that, but a red line that stood out against my skin. It was right where Enzo’s arm had wound around my throat, those suffocating, terrifying moments when I thought he was going to kill me, only for him to release and fuck the life out of me. My cock twitched again.

Down, boy.

“Where did you go last night?” Rourke asked, making me shut off my phone and glance at him. “I know you came back here after I told you to take your ass home.”

“There was no reason for me to go— Ah! You son of a bitch,” I ground out through clenched teeth as Rourke’s fist slammed into my shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said. “Idiot.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I shot back. “I can still do my job.”

“Until someone grabs your damn arm the wrong way, and you piss yourself in pain and end up with a bullet in your head.”

Rourke was a good friend and a great partner, but sometimes I wanted to slap him. He was so uptight and rigid when he wanted to be.

“I’m fine,” I stressed. “Yes, it hurts, but I can work through the pain if I really need to. Okay?”

Rourke grunted and started up the car. That was as good as I was going to get, and I knew it. I pulled out my phone and checked over my messages before I pulled up a notepad and started typing. Enzo Vitale. Neat. Strong. Notices things. Crazy as fuck. It was a good list, but a short one. I needed more to go on. I had to meet up with Enzo again.

I thought back to the note I’d left him. It was short, precise, and to the point. Just two words.

Fuck You.