when we were BROKEN

Buenos Aires, Argentina

"Have a drink."

"I told you I quit."

"No one likes a quitter, amado."

They were sitting in a quiet back room of a comfortably modern bungalow, smoking. Rémy was trying to keep this professional, but Ikeno Sousa was making it harder by the second. It was the same room from eight years ago. The same curtains. The same three-bladed fan spun lazily overhead.

"Can we skip the pleasantries, Ikeno?"

Dark eyes in a smooth, unblemished face regarded him fondly. A slim hand with short, neat nails lifted a cigarette to smooth, soft lips. Curly hair the color of earth and blood hung perfectly styled over a dusky brow. Ikeno was stunning. A thirty-something figure well-known in the South American underworld, Sousa was a wealth of information and connections. Also, the go-to person when any form of fraudulent papers was needed.

Rémy still wasn't sure how it had happened. How they ended up back here that night. Drunk. Laughing. Then kissing. Then naked.

He'd woken up with a wicked buzz in his head and rumpled sheets next to him. Stunned, horrified, he'd left immediately and never looked back. Until now. He wasn't a prude. He wasn't a virgin... the issue was more... complicated.

"What makes you frown, amado?"

"Stop calling me that."

"You left without a word. Were you ashamed?" Rémy flushed as a low laugh sent prickles along his scalp. "Ah... A ânsia da juventude se arrepende da masculinidade."

"I wasn't a child eight years ago."

"I'm well aware of that," Ikeno blew a perfect ring in the air. "But you were much younger than you are now, Rémy."

The French gangster rubbed his temples, ignoring the tender voice Ikeno used.

"What do you want? I can't just sit here guessing."

"I want an explanation." White teeth flashed in a sweet smile. "Tell me why you ran away like a whipped dog. Tell me the truth."

"If I don't?" Rémy knew the answer, but his back was against the wall and he didn't want to appear to be submissive. Sousa laughed out loud.

"Then you go home. Without what you came for."

"That's all?"

"It's enough." Leaning forward, smooth hands reached out, fingertips brushed over Rémy's calloused knuckles before he could jerk back. "I cannot be cruel to you, amado. Not after that night."

"Why does it matter so much to you? We had...it's over. Okay?"

"You can't even say it." Sousa shifted position a little, eyes twinkling. "We had sex, amado. Why do the words bother you?"

"You know why." Rémy's voice had gone cold, his features stiffening dangerously as he met an amused look. "You should have told me... at least warned me."

"Warned you, as if I had something to be ashamed of?" Rémy could've bitten off his tongue as ageless features regarded him seriously. "Why does the truth scare you? Do you think it somehow changes who you are?" Reaching out, Sousa rubbed out the cigarette in a handcrafted, delicately painted ashtray, unblinking as dark eyes held Rémy's.

"Until you are brave enough to tell me why you ran away, I'm not going to help you." A dusky hand lifted, waving toward the door. "Should I drive you back to the airport? To let you run away again, your tail between your legs?"

"Don't push me." It was a snarl, but Ikeno smiled tolerantly.

"You don't have the authority to just leave, do you? This is for work, and what your boss wants always comes before what you want. What choice does that leave you?"