“Practice makes perfect,” I encouraged, knowing we both needed to get our heads focused.
“Right.” He flicked down his safety and took aim.
Then he fired.
Four hours later, we found ourselves at a candy shop on the pier in Santa Monica. I felt optimistic because I didn’t think there was anyone brazen enough to shoot either of us dead in the middle of a popular tourist destination, but I’d been wrong before. We could deal with Molinaro today and then figure out who Carmen Savino was another day.
“Do you think this will be done before Friday?” I asked, scooping some cherry jelly beans into a crinkly plastic bag.
“Why?” Sage had a candy bar in his hand.
“So we can get out of town,” I said, voice hushed. Just mentioning it had my face heating. I looked away and dropped another scoop of jelly beans into the bag.
Sage stepped up beside me, aligning his chest against my back. He shifted to the side and I felt the press of his erection, then the scrape of his gun as he dragged his body over mine.
“Is there something you need from me?” he asked.
I twisted the bag closed and wrapped a red wire and paper tie around it, letting it hang low at my side.
The answer to that question was a complicated one. There were a lot of things I needed, a lot of things I didn’t know how to ask for. Hell, I’d gone as far as to arrange a charity auction and put myself up for sale so I could find someone willing to play the way I wanted to play. That had seemed easier than sitting down and having a conversation. Easier than having to lay out all the fucked-up things I wanted. With Sage, I didn’t have to give him a list.
We just fit.
The broken parts, the good parts, the bad parts. We clicked together and everything made sense, everything hurt, everything was perfect.
“Just you,” I admitted, tipping my head to the side, giving him access to the side of my neck.
“As soon as this is done,” he promised, cock throbbing behind me.
“Finish it.”
“So I can finish you?” Sage pinched my side and stepped away.
I shivered and tossed the bag of jelly beans at him.
“You better,” I said.
“Fancy running into you two here,” Molinaro said from a few feet away.
I tensed, nearly growling at the intrusion.
“Is that how you used to greet my padre?” Sage asked, arching a brow.
“Rosetti,” he conceded.
“Marinara,” Sage countered. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you.”
I choked on a laugh at the way Sage misspoke as I took the jelly beans back from him, and his chocolate bar.
“I’m going to go pay,” I said, walking away.
I dropped the candy on the counter at the register and handed over a ten dollar bill. Concluding the transaction, I stepped away from the counter, right into what I knew was the barrel of a gun against my spine.
Fucking fool.
I bit the tip of my tongue between my teeth.
“I hear you’re looking for me,” an unfamiliar voice said in my ear.
