Page 23 of Illicit

She picks up the mug after the last few drops of coffee fall and stirs in sugar. She doesn’t even look for creamer because she knows I drink it black and turns to me. “What can I say? I’ve learned from the best.”

If she’s going to act like a petulant child, I should be the one to rise above it.

But fuck that.

I’ll throw it right back at her.

“Congrats, you’ve perfected Sammie two point oh. Since you don’t have a desire to find out what I learned about Robichaux, do what you need to do before we leave. I’m taking you back to your car. Maybe I’ll see you at graduation—maybe not. Depends on if I have a few hours to kill on my drive back to Miami.”

Through my tirade, her Sammie expression dissolves into something I’m familiar with as she grips her mug. “You found out something about Robichaux?”

I tip my head, give her a slow, lazy smile, and shake my head. “You had your chance to cooperate. And if you think about coming back to NOLA, I’ll put an APB out on you, your car, and your plates. I’ve spent the last three years getting to know local law enforcement. I’m going to be so far up Robichaux’s ass, there’s no way you can communicate with him without me knowing.”

Her expression falls farther and her full, pink lips part.

Fucking-A.

My mouth waters.

Her mug hits the counter, and she calls for me, “Rocco!”

It’s too late.

I’m on my way to the bathroom. I’ve got a long day ahead of me, and it all has to do with Jules Robichaux after I kick Teagan out of Louisiana.

“Tell me what you found out,” she demands, but I slam the bathroom door in her face and lock it.

I flip on the shower water and strip out of my clothes as she bangs on the door. “Cool it, Teag. You’re going to get me evicted in my last days here.”

“It’ll serve you right,” she yells. “I’ll quit yelling if you tell me what you found out. Seriously, Rocco. You’re the most aggravating man on the planet. This is important to me. You can’t just take over and not tell me anything. I have the emails. With your ability to do your governmenty stuff with warrants and shit, we could find out who Robichaux was communicating with. I need to know how he targeted Mr. Hayes and why his trail went cold in Nigeria. Please.”

I toss a washcloth over the shower curtain and rip the towel off the hook. I flip it around my waist, fist it at my hip, and open the door.

When she sets her eyes on me, she’s flustered, standing there in my clothes while I face her in nothing but a towel.

Her gaze drops to my chest before her arms cross over her small one hidden in my shirt. Finally, she angles her eyes to mine and glares.

So much glaring.

I rest my free hand high on the jamb and lower my voice. “Quit yelling.”

She hikes a brow. “Quit being an asshole and help me.”

The problem is, she knows I’ll help her. There are certain people in the world I can’t say no to. Most of them live in Miami. The other one slept on my sofa last night while I spent a good part of it staring at her.

“I’m going to take a shower. Then I’m going to take you back to your car, and you’re going back to school. You’ll send me the emails and put me in touch with the Hayes family.”

Her brows pinch. “No. You can’t cut me out. I won’t allow it.”

“The last thing I want to do is call your parents. They have enough shit to deal with right now with Sammie. And you’re finally speaking to me. I’m not anxious to fuck that up.”

Her dark eyes flare and she starts to yell again. “I’m only speaking to you because you basically kidnapped me yesterday!”

I smile down at her. “You know what? Yell all you like. I’ll take it. Yelling is better than nothing.”

“Fine. I’ll go back to school and regroup. You can’t stop me.” She drags her hands through her messy hair and fists it with frustration before giving up on begging me for help. “And you know what? Go ahead and tattle to my parents. They can’t do anything to stop me either. Everyone in my life seems to forget I’m an adult. I’ve worked damn hard. I’ll have my master’s in a matter of days and will be on my own a few weeks after that—literally and figuratively. Good luck trying to control my life from Miami.”

With that, she turns on a bare foot, and I lose sight of her around the corner. I slam the bathroom door and take the fastest shower I can. I doubt she’d leave on her own, but she’s also not the same Teagan I’ve watched grow up since she was eleven.

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