Page 37 of Our Tricks

Eagle pulled me up and off Sprocket to cradle me against his broad chest. “Come on, little hellcat, let’s get you cleaned up and put to bed.”

“But you and Picasso didn’t get to come,” I pointed out.

“Oh, we came alright… no way any man could watch you get fucked like that and not come right in his hand. Fuck, it was better than watching porn seeing you shatter in their arms, knowing that if I wanted to later tonight, I could roll over and take you anytime I want,” Eagle explained.

I moaned, just thinking of that scenario. “You have my permission to do that whenever you want. The thought of being fucked awake is so goddamn hot.”

“Don’t forget you said that when my face is between your legs in the middle of the night,” Eagle warned.

Grabbing his face, I slammed my lips to his, taking him off guard enough he had to pause on the stairs. Our kiss was hot, needy, and full of nips vying for power only to be equally matched as always.

“Maybe you’re not finished yet,” Eagle murmured. “Suppose I can get you a little dirtier in the shower before I clean you up.”

Which is exactly what he did, sapping the last of the strength I had to the point I don’t remember getting put to bed.

Chapter 14

Sprocket

Gazing down at Dax’s sleeping face was one of the rare times I ever saw her truly at peace. There wasn’t an ounce of worry, fear, anger, or scheming going on behind her eyes, just rest. The past few months would have been grueling for anyone, and a lesser person would have snapped long before now. There had been that incident with Tommaso’s adoptive father and bringing up her past, but even that didn’t slow her down for long.

It worried me that she wanted to take a step back and let us play a bigger part. Logically, it made sense. It was the smart, calculating move to make. Yet something made me question if that was the only reason she was doing it. Up until now, she had nothing and no one to lose. She could pull all the crazy stunts and not worry about it affecting someone else. We’d changed all that—I’d changed all that when I lashed out at her after the fight with the Mad Dogs.

For a moment, I’d worried that I’d made her somehow question everything she does. Then when everything came together for the fight night and how to manipulate it for our needs came into play, I relaxed. The old Dax was back to play if a little more aware of those involved. What had me worried is this was the first attack aimed at us, her men.

Had it taken the world this long to figure out how important we were to her? That we’d do anything for her in return?

Marco was proving to be a brilliant mastermind, but his flaw that’s just recently been revealed is he can’t plan on the fly. He’s methodical and has to have all the data to predict our moves, placing a counter-attack where it was needed. Us taking out Diego and putting in a new power wasn’t something he’d prepared for. Marco assumed we’d go after Diego and call it good enough. My bet was he had another person ready to step into the role, and that’s who is causing all the trouble.

If we were going to do this our way and not Dax’s, then we needed to hand that problem off to Tommaso and move on. Marco would expect Dax to seek her revenge because that’s her standard MO. Personally, I didn’t see the need to go after someone who wasn’t really our problem or a roadblock in the efforts to get to Marco.

The soft clacking of keys alerted me to Wes still being awake. Lifting my head, I saw him sitting on the sofa in the bedroom, lit up by the blue light of the computer screen. It seems I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. Carefully, I slid out of my spot and let Cognac fill the space as he seemed to naturally gravitate to her side. Picasso was on her other side, arm tossed over his eyes with Dax’s leg over his stomach. His other hand was hooked behind her knee as if to ensure she didn’t move from that position. We were all hopeless when it came to her, and I couldn’t be happier.

Padding over to Wes, I dropped to the seat beside him and glanced at the screen. As I suspected, he was looking over the data we’d pulled from the De León hard drives. Skimming over the screen, I figured out it was an employee file, but I didn’t recognize the name.

“Did you find something?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“I’m not sure…” Wes let out a heavy sigh. “Only as I’m looking through some of the invoices and shipping logs that don’t make sense, this name keeps coming up as the employee who was assigned to it. What makes it even stranger is that the information in this file makes no sense. When I look things up, they aren’t even located in New York but all over the US. Clearly, this is a dummy file, but I can’t figure out what it’s covering up.”

“Could those locations be stash houses or drops for drugs or other goods?” I inquired. “To me, it seems like if they have a list of various places, then those places must mean something.”

“That’s what I thought too, and when I pull up satellite images of the area, I don’t see much of anything, just small farm towns,” Wes explained. “They’re all on the East Coast or Midwest area, nothing near our turf. Then there’s this location that doesn’t come up with anything.”

Shifting the computer so I could see better, he flipped over to another tab that showed the name in the search bar with no results. Frowning, I stared at the name, and something about it was making me feel like I’d seen it somewhere before. It wasn’t tied to a city or town name, though it was when I was searching through desks at the office.

“What’s the employee’s name?” I asked, hoping it would trigger something more of the memory.

“Miles Row, but I already told you it’s not a real person,” Wes countered. “There’s no real employee with that name in their system, past or present.”

“Hold on a sec,” I said, raising a hand for him to stop talking.

Closing my eyes, I replayed the afternoon as we rifled through people’s desks looking for anything that would give us ammo to use against them. People always left things in their desk they never thought would get them in trouble because of the societal rule that you don’t look in them. I’d started in the back of the room away from any of the main traffic areas, feeling this was where I’d want to sit if I were trying to keep a secret.

The desk didn’t have much of a personal touch to it like the others, almost as if it was a spare for anyone to use. There was a file drawer that had been locked, but it wasn’t hard for me to pick the lock and get it open. File drawers weren’t all that challenging or secure, if we’re being honest. The files weren’t labeled, and when I looked at them, it was simple invoices for goods that had been shipped. It seemed to be a fair amount of farming and gardening supplies, but most of the items were things I didn’t recognize. They sounded more like chemical names for pesticides or fertilizer, but that was a guess. What caught my eye was the fact the name of the buyer was crossed out and handwritten with the words, Joyful Garden Supplies.

“It’s absolutely a place,” I announced, my eyes popping open. “There was a desk I looked through and had invoices originally marked for another company. I don’t remember what that name was, but what I do recall is that it was crossed out and marked Joyful Garden. Do you have a seating chart or anything to find out whose desk it was? I got the feeling it wasn’t someone permanent, but it might also be because they didn’t want to leave any trace of who they were either.”

“Why would they risk having that out in the open?” Wes muttered as he searched for something that might help us.