Page 133 of Illicit

“Teagan?”

I force myself to swallow over the lump in my throat and squeak, “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

I shake my head like he’s in the same room and can see me. “No. I’m not okay.”

“I’ll sit here and wait until you’re ready to hear the rest.”

My manners fly out the window when I sniff too loud. “There’s more?”

“There is.”

“Oh, shit. I don’t like the sound of your voice.”

“They stopped in Barcelona to fuel up. My contact said Mr. Hayes wasn’t doing well. My guy, Jarvis, is trained as a medic but didn’t want to chance flying across the pond if Mr. Hayes needed further care. They’re at the hospital now.”

I climb off the floor and forget about everything in my closet. “The hospital? What’s wrong with him?”

“Let’s just say he wasn’t well cared for in prison. I’ll let you know when I know something.”

“Thank you, Cole. Thank you for getting him. I’m so relieved he’s out of there.”

“No worries,” Cole says. “Consider it an early wedding present.”

I freeze.

“Excuse me?”

But he’s gone. The line goes dead.

I dial a number that I haven’t called in I don’t know how long. Probably since before I lost my mind and decided to use a hand-me-down fake ID at a sketchy bar on the outskirts of the French Quarter.

Rocco and I have hardly been apart since we were reunited in the lounge of The Hotel Monteleone. There’s been no need to text him, let alone call him. He does all the calling.

He picks up on the first ring. “You miss me.”

I smile. “I missed you for two years. We’ve been apart for an hour and a half, and I’ve been packing the whole time. Missing you hits different after knowing what two years feels like.”

“Baby.” He lowers his voice. “Quit making me love you more. My heart can’t take it.”

I fall back on my bed and stare at the ceiling fan whirling above me. “Will it always be like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like a fairytale. Like if I blink, this will be ripped away from me forever.”

“I hope so. That means I’m doing my job.”

I close my eyes and let the cool air fan my face. “See? Fairytale.”

“Thanks.” I hear him talking to someone in the background before returning his attention to me. “Did you just call to tell me you loved me? Because if so, I’m here for it.”

“No. Cole called me. Did you give him my number?”

“He’s the CIA. He could probably listen to your calls if he wanted to. Not that it would be legal, but it doesn’t change the fact he could do it. He definitely doesn’t need to ask for your number.”

“Oh, wow.”

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