They ended up bringing all the food out to the patio area with the beautiful pergola and fireplace next to the pool. They sat under the pergola, eating while they made small talk. Between bites of Lobster Carbonara, Mushroom Ravioli al Forno and Chicken Piccata, and sips of white wine, Low told Renzo about his classes and his condo buying venture. In turn, Renzo shared the pros and cons about owning a club.

It was comfortable and easy and everything Low wanted them to be.

When they were finished, Low so stuffed he could barely move, they sat in silence with the fireplace warming their little area as the sun disappeared and dusk swept in, looking out over the pool. Renzo’s house was beautiful. Homey yet elegant.

“I need to tell you something.” Renzo’s soft words broke their calm. Low glanced over at him as Renzo shook his head. “A few somethings actually.”

“Okay.” Low nodded. “I’m listening.”

Renzo got up from his seat across from Low and joined him in his chair. Hunched forward, staring out over his backyard, Renzo’s knee brushed against Low’s. Low touched his neck, squeezing him lightly before releasing. There was a tension in the lines of Renzo’s body that Low wished he could wipe away.

Renzo grabbed Low’s hand. “I want to be the one to make you happy. I want to be the reason you smile, the reason you laugh.” He touched Low, a fleeting brush of a fingertip at the corner of his mouth. “I want to be the reason you get those laugh lines that frame your gorgeous mouth.”

Jesus, this man made him so weak. “Renzo.”

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Low heard the words, but they didn’t fully register. Maybe because he was too busy getting lost in Renzo’s eyes. “Uh…”

“Low.” Renzo sounded fragile and for the life of him Low couldn’t figure out why that would be. “I’m with the FBI, baby.”

Low blinked. He cocked his head. “Say that one more time.”

Renzo gaze got more intense on Low’s face. “I’m undercover.”

Undercover. FBI agent. “But—” He found himself grappling to find words to convey his confusion. “I don’t—” He couldn’t come up with anything.

Renzo wasn’t suffering the same affliction though, because he was speaking, heavy words falling from his mouth. “I’m part of a special task force that less than a dozen people know about. Top secret. We go after the worst of the worst.”

Low stared at him, trying to understand. FBI. Renzo was FBI. Law enforcement. Which meant… “You-You’re one of the good guys?”

Renzo’s mouth twisted. “No. I’m on this task force precisely because I am not a good guy. I do what needs to be done, no matter what that might be.”

Turning away from him, Low stared out over the smooth waters of the horseshoe-shaped pool. “So you do sell guns? You do sell drugs?” He waved a hand. “All that shit is for real?”

“It is.” Renzo nodded shortly. “I have to get my hands dirty if I want to get names and faces. I have to be one of them, so they can trust me, bring me into their circle.”

Okay, he could understand that. “And then you arrest them.”

“Not me personally, because obviously they can’t know I’m involved, but yeah.” Renzo shifted, exhaling heavily. “Kenton knew about me.”

Low startled, eyes widening. “You told him?”

“I was asking him to do something dangerous for me, I had to let him know why.”

“So tell me. What did you ask him to do?”

“I sent him inside the Gangster Disciples as a mole.”

“Jesus, Renzo!” Low jumped to his feet. He didn’t know anything about that gang except for what he saw on the evening news, but even that was enough to give any sane person living in Atlanta nightmares. The Gangster Disciples were vicious and non-discriminating in their violence. “Why? Why would you do that?” Why would Kenton agree?

“They wanted in on the gun trade, but that’s my thing.” Renzo shrugged. “I control it. So when one of my shipments of guns went missing, I needed to know if they were behind it.”

Low stopped pacing and met his gaze. “Were they?”

“Well, the men who ambushed me in the club were GD, and the bullet Dax removed from my shoulder was from one of the guns in that stolen shipment. So yes, they were behind it. They killed Kenton before he got any concrete proof.”

Fuck. Low squeezed his eyes shut.

“Today, I dealt with the people behind Kenton’s death.”

Low’s eyes snapped open. “What does that mean?”

Renzo jaw ticked and he held Low’s stare as he stood and approached him slowly. Probably giving Low enough time to run if he wanted to. When Low stayed put, Renzo cupped his jaw, gaze deepening. “It means, the men who killed your cousin have been handled.” He licked his lips. “It means I’m sorry for your loss. For your family’s loss, and it means you were right, I am the one ultimately responsible for what happened.”

“Oh, so now you’re taking everything on, putting it all on your shoulders?” Low lifted an eyebrow.

Renzo faced the pool, hands shoved into his pockets. “It’s where the blame belongs.” He looked alone, like a man carrying secrets and burdens hundreds of pounds heavier than his body weight. He looked weary and beaten down and Low just wanted to hold him.

So he did.

One step brought him flush against Renzo’s back. Low slid his arms around Renzo’s waist, laying his cheek on his back. Holding him. Holding on. He’d always seen it in Renzo’s eyes, that heaviness, the sadness.

“You want to be the one to make me happy,” he murmured. “And I want to be the one who removes the sadness from your eyes. I want to be the one you tell all your secrets. I want to be the one to hold you while you sleep.” He slid his hand up Renzo’s chest, stopping over his heart that pounded under Low’s palm. “I don’t want you closing your eyes without me.”

Renzo’s hand covered his and they stood like that. Low fell for Renzo when he thought he was the worst kind of criminal. He’d been prepared to sleep with him, be with him despite all that. Knowing Renzo was FBI only served to show Low he’d made the right choice. Renzo was his, FBI agent or no. Criminal or not.

This was happening.

This was going down.

They’d waited long enough.

He’d waited long enough.

He tugged on Renzo’s shirt until the older man turned around. Low gazed up at him, already lost, falling into the hunger in the depths of his gray eyes. “Take me inside, Renzo Vega. I want to take off my clothes for you again.” He traced the length of Renzo’s nose with a fingertip. “I want you to take your clothes off for me—”

Renzo caught him by the throat, stalling the rest of his words. “There’s no going back,” Renzo drawled against Low’s ear. “The instant you walked through my door earlier, it’s been you and me, Low. Understand that.” His touch tightened.

“Daddy.” He wrapped his arms around Renzo, pulling him in closer. “I know.” He wanted to belong to Renzo. Felt as if he already did, from their first meeting. The spark Renzo ignited in him. The way he felt so boneless and light in Renzo’s orbit. The comfort he got in Renzo’s arms. Low already belonged to him. “I belong to you and you belong to me.”

When Renzo lifted his head, pulling back to search Low’s gaze, Low smiled for him. Renzo made him smile even when Low didn’t feel like it.

“We used a condom earlier.”

Low nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m clean, got a piece of a paper somewhere to prove it.”

“I’ve always been safe,” Low told him.

Renzo gripped his chin, gaze turned hot and predatory. “We go inside, I’m getting up in it raw.”

Low’s pulse leapt. “Why are we still out here?”