I glance at the screen.
Shit.
Hitting answer as I bring it to my ear, I slip into the bathroom off to the side of the loft and ease the door partially closed. “What?”
Isaac snorts. “Hello to you, too.”
“I’m busy.”
“Why are you whispering?”
I peek out the cracked door, but Gage hasn’t stirred again. “Because I’m fucking busy.”
“Well, get unbusy.” His voice loses all humor. “You need to come over to the penthouse.”
“Why?”
“Just fucking do it.”
He ends the call, and I release an annoyed groan.
So much for my hot shower.
Instead, I have to go see Isaac about whatever the fuck is going on with the reminder and evidence of what I did with Gage—or should I say, what he did to me—still dripping from me.
But if he’s at the penthouse with Coen and Allegra instead of at home with Jack, Vivi, and Gio at almost midnight, then something is very wrong.
Sucking in a long, deep breath, I slip out the bathroom door and make my way over to the nightstand to grab my gun and slide it into the holster. I snag my boots and socks and carry them down, refusing to risk the sound they might make on the metal treads.
I freeze with each step I take, watching the bed until I’m so far down I can’t see it anymore, then I book it across the shop, past his Harley and Indian, to the small pedestrian door next to the large rolling one.
The few seconds it takes to pull on my socks and boots feels like an eternity while glancing up to ensure he isn’t watching.
I scan the dimly lit shop as I lace my boots.
I’d love to search down here, too, given the time, but whatever Isaac called about was urgent. And when it comes to the Hawkes, urgent doesn’t usually mean good. Especially with Satriano back in town.
With one last look to the loft, I unlock the door, then slip out into the warm, damp New Orleans late evening air and fire off a text to Isaac.
I’m on my way, but I’m on the other side of town so it’ll be a bit.
He immediately returns my text.
Just get here.
Asshole.
I scowl at it, then I slide my phone back inside my pocket as I rush toward the car. My hand trembles digging for my keys and pressing the unlock button, and as soon as it’s open, I slide in and fire it up quickly, as if that big sliding door could open at any moment and Gage might come out and try to do something to stop me.
One look is honestly all it would take…
And that realization is terrifying.
But there’s no movement from the building, no sound to suggest he woke, and for some reason, slipping out secretly in the dead of night like this makes what we just did feel even more wrong.
Even as my body sings with the memory of it and craves more.
Gage may offer the Hawkes another line of protection—an asset to our defenses against the kind of ruthlessness Satriano loves to direct toward us—but I’m more confident than ever that I’m going to need protecting from him—and from what he does to my heart.
