Page 11 of Illicit

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.”

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