The lights and water are on a timer, and I’m hoping we can get this all wrapped up quickly so that there isn’t too much work for them to get it thriving once they return.
I pick up the pace, jogging through the tall plants before I get to his work bench. I pause and reminisce about all the times we spent in here, with him working his mad scientist mojo while he cultivated and spliced and muttered to himself, and I curled up with a book on the comfy armchair he placed in the corner especially for me. God, I miss him so much.
My eye catches on a canister that is sitting off to one side. It’s the strain we liked to share while down here, and I grab a little baggy and open it, pulling some of it out before putting the lid back on. I tuck the bag into my pocket along with the gun mags and keep moving. When I get to the main hangar of the warehouse, it’s empty except for a few spare vehicles we keep down here. Going over to the pegboard, I bite my lip as I consider which one to take. Knowing I need to move quickly, I grab the set to the Ducati Panigale. The machine is a beast and fast as fuck, and it will make weaving through traffic a breeze. Snatching a helmet off a nearby stand, I shove it over my head before taking my gloves out of my pocket and putting them on. I will be unrecognizable now if any of Mario’s crew are stalking the streets.
I hurry across the empty hangar and throw my leg over the bike before putting the key in the ignition. The bike grumbles to life as I turn it, and I kick the stand and use my feet to move it forward, pushing the key code into the control panel. The huge cargo doors slowly roll upward, and the lights in the tunnel start to flicker on, moving away from me.
I don’t wait for the door to rise all the way, but once there’s enough room for me to squeeze under, I kick the bike into gear and rev the engine, releasing the brake. The bike takes off down the lit corridor, the journey quicker than in a car due to the speedI can go on the bike. When I get to the lift, I flick the little button on the bike, which activates the mechanism, and I rise into the cave, the floor parting to let me through. As soon as it stops moving, I gun the bike forward again. I have a fair idea of where I need to go. Once I get there, I’ll pull out my phone and put the address into the maps app.
Hopefully Mickey is already there. I’ve decided not to tell him about Carla and Dad—not yet, anyway. There is no point when we have no clue where they are being held. I’m still hoping Mario will bring them out of hiding to reprogram the Russo safe network to give him access. Failing that, I’m counting on Colton to find their location. I have faith that it will only be a matter of time until he discovers their whereabouts.
The journey to Suncity and through the outskirts passes in a blur. I’m practically on autopilot as I guide the bike past an occasional car and through fairly empty streets to the suburb the address is located in. Once I reach it, I pull to the side of the road, allowing the bike to idle quietly while I dig my phone out of my pocket and plug in the address. Taking note of the directions, I realize I’m not far from it, so I drive the bike a little farther before pulling into a parking bay located on a side street and shut it down. Climbing off, I pocket the keys and leave the helmet on the seat. There’s no one around, and if the helmet gets stolen, I won’t be particularly concerned. I’ll ride home without one if I have to.
Turning my back on the bike, I jog in the direction of the address. It’s a street over and down two blocks. The dim streetlamps light my way with an occasional house still with a light on, but mostly, the suburb is quiet and still at this time of morning. I startle a dog who starts barking his head off, but I keep going, hoping the owners just think a cat set him off.
Chapter Thirteen
When I finally reach the right address, I find it shrouded in darkness. All of the streetlamps are off. I would bet my last dollar that Mickey somehow had them taken care of either remotely or he put a bullet in each of them. This street is a row of townhouses, and I stick to the shadows as I move toward the number on the note. Everything is quiet. There isn’t a whisper of breeze, and the sound of traffic in the distance is muted. The first house has a TV on inside, and the viewer must be deaf, because it’s so loud, I can hear it from the street. It sounds like he’s watching something with action, because it’s noisy and violent, jarring in the otherwise still atmosphere, but it also covers the sound of my feet. The next few townhouses show no signs of life—no lights, no cars parked in front, nothing—and I wonder if they are kept empty on purpose.
I reach the right townhouse and look around. I can’t see any sign of Mickey anywhere, but the gate to the little courtyard swings open despite there being a gate code that is required for entrance. Why would they leave that open for anyone to walk in? I reach for the gun inside my jacket and enter the courtyard carefully, keeping my eyes peeled for anyone who might be against me, but there’s nothing other than eerie silence. I creepdown the pathway to the front door, which is cracked a small amount, gold lighting the way. I plant my back against the wall and slowly nudge the door a little wider, letting more of the light escape to illuminate my path. I allow my eyes to adjust and take a deep breath, then I step into the foyer, my gun at the ready, but what I find has me gaping in horror.
A body lies just inside the doorway, its neck slit from ear to ear. Blood congeals in a pool below it, its sightless eyes staring at the ceiling. For a second, panic grips me until I realize it isn’t Mickey. It’s someone I don’t recognize, someone dressed in cargos and a black top. A gun lies a few feet from his body, discarded, his hand stretched out like he was reaching for it.
A thump somewhere in the back of the house has me quickly crossing the foyer to a hallway, where I press my back to the wall for protection. I silently make my way deeper into the townhouse, passing the stairs that lead to the upper level. I peek around a doorway and find another guard also dead. This one has a bullet through the middle of his forehead and two in his heart, and another pool of congealing blood below him.
Whatever transpired here happened a little while ago, since the blood is already starting to solidify. I keep moving, passing another doorway to another empty room. This one looks like it’s been tossed. Papers are strewn everywhere, and furniture is overturned like someone was searching for something, but what? Was I wrong? Was this not where Addison was being held? Where is Mickey?
My heart continues to beat so loudly, I can hear it in my ears. I’m almost at the end of the hallway, where another door leads into what I assume is a living area or something, when I hear something scrape behind me. Before I can spin, a hand slams over my mouth, and a knife presses against my neck directly above my carotid.
“What do we have here? Another pretty thing for me to play with?” The words are muffled and threatening, but a familiar scent drifts toward my nose, and I melt back into the warm body behind me—a body I have missed so very fucking much.
“Sage,” I whisper like a prayer, and he chuckles, dropping his knife and pressing a kiss to the spot he pricked.
“Hello, my love. You’re late, and we had all the fun without you.”
I spin in his arms and stare at him like he’s the forbidden fruit I’ve craved my whole life. His green eyes sparkle with amusement, and a corner of his lips kick up in a smile.
“Sage,” I sigh and reach for him at the same time he leans down, kissing me like I’m the air he needs to breathe.
Without breaking the kiss, he picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he backs into the last room and slams me against the wall next to the door. Breaking apart, we both reach for each other’s pants, tearing at buttons and wrestling with zippers. He drops me to my feet, and I push my cargos down, tugging them over my boots before he lifts me up. I don’t even have my legs around his waist before he thrusts deep into my throbbing core. The moan that leaves my mouth shatters the silence that was only punctured by our frantic breaths.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this hot pussy. I’ve missed your sweet mouth. I’ve missed these succulent breasts,” he mutters against my mouth as his hips pound into me. “Fucking Mickey and Maeve are so fucking sweet, it’s nauseating. My jealousy knows no bounds.”
I grab his hair and tug his head up away from where he’s been sucking on my neck.
“Do not mention my uncle while your cock is buried deep inside me,” I growl, and he chuckles but slides a hand between us and flicks my clit. I release his hair and grab his shoulders,using them for leverage so I can meet every one of his thrusts with one of my own.
“Fuck yes,” I whine as I feel all the tension inside me build to a peak. “Just like that,” I plead as his finger circles my throbbing button with perfect pressure.
He bends his knees slightly and picks up the pace, thrusting even harder, and I feel my core spasm and shatter, pulsing around him as my orgasm flows through each of my limbs. I groan and bite his neck to muffle the sounds as heat washes through me and he stills, finding his own release.
“Baby,” he murmurs, his hand leaving my clit to cup my cheek. He stares at me with all the love and affection I so desperately missed.
We stand there, cocooned in our bubble of reunion, when a grunt outside the door has me flinching.
“If you two are done fucking, can we get on with this please?” Mickey grumbles before muttering under his breath, “Hearing your niece’s sex noises is something that should never grace an uncle’s ears.” We hear him walk away, and I giggle as Sage lowers me before pulling free.
I grimace as I feel his cum drip down my inner thigh. “Well, that is going to make things uncomfortable.”
