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“You andBig, hey? Doesn’t that guy have a name?” I enter a bakery and point to two ham and cheese sandwiches and two chocolate muffins.He might be hungry.
“He does, his name’s Wyatt. And he says hi.” Another laugh.
“Fucking hi, are you kidding me? You tell those assholes that I can’t find their precious Connor. Tell them he’s AWOL.”
And like the infuriating little brat she can sometimes be, she does exactly that. I hear the other woman laughing again—fucking annoying—and then Vic’s back.
“Mia will call him to check.”
“Yeah, she better. He might be dead or taken by these French motherfuckers we’re chasing here. Or…”
“She says he’s fine.”
“...What?” I stop right in my tracks. “What?” I repeat.
“Mia’s talking to him right now. He’s fine.” Some more muffled sounds and Vic says, “He’s at some art gallery. You wanna talk to him?”
I let out a dark chuckle. “What, talk to him? Me? Pff.” I swallow, needing a few seconds to collect my thoughts. “Yeah, sure.”
“Here. I’ll put you on speaker. You can talk to him right now.”
“Is this a fucking joke?” I spit and I’m this close to hanging up when I hear them laugh.
“Austin?” Connor’s not laughing. Nor does he sound pleased to hear me. My throat’s suddenly dry, and no matter how much I swallow, my mind’s not getting any clearer.
“Right,” he mutters at my silence, annoyed. “I’ll be back at the apartment in time for us to prepare and head out tonight, alright?”
What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t find the words. Then Vic’s back and the moment’s gone.
“See, he’s fine. Are you, though? You’re acting weird.”
“I’m—I’m fine. He’s just being a little shit, yeah,” I bite out.
“Yeah,” she mutters.
“Listen, I gotta go.”
“Will you please take good care of yourself, sweets? I’m worried about you. We want you back home, safe, alright?”
“Yeah.” My voice sounds thick with something that feels ridiculously like self-pity. “You too. You’re still in enemy territory.”
“Oh bitch, you know it,” she laughs, but her voice lacks its usual sharpness.
By the time I make it back to the apartment door, I’ve already finished my sandwich and I’m halfway through Connor’s. You know, the one that he won’t eat anyway. The rest of the day I’ll spend working on those files Ro’s been going through, and perhaps a bit of Netflix.
Which I do. Until Vic sends me a photo of Connor, having a glass of wine at some stuck-up art gallery. He looks damn fine in his green turtleneck and tight slacks, his eyes dancing toward the camera and a canvas in the other hand.
Fuck, I wanted tohavehim. But now I realize, I want tokeephim.
Chapter 13: Connor
After a wild ride of a day, I made sure to get back to the apartment just in time for a quick shower and a change. However, when I open the door, Austin’s leaning against the walls, arms crossed over his chest. The dangerous scowl on his face makes me stop dead in my tracks.
“Yes?” I try to keep it casual and ignore him as I busy myself with my clothes and my suitcase.
He growls something unintelligible and stomps around before he barks, “Did you end up buying that painting?”
I look up from my suitcase, surprised. “I did.” When he doesn’t reply, I prompt, “Do you like it?”
