35
Brandon
AsleekblackMercedeswaited for us at the front of the hotel. Dressed in a suit and wearing dark glasses, Shep emerged from the vehicle looking more like a lethal bodyguard than a chauffeur. He fidgeted with his tie while holding the rear door open.
The hitman nodded as we entered the sedan. His dark-blond hair had been combed back and held in place with wax, although one tendril at his forehead refused to conform.
As we departed the hotel, Shep glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “You look like a fucking penguin.”
I smirked. “And you look like a pit bull playing dress-up.”
“Fair enough. I hate wearing this shit.” Shep tugged at the neck of his shirt like it itched.
Shep had spent the day running errands to prepare for the mission. I was grateful to have him on board. Dante was a common enemy, and my Team Zulu brother was eager to help take him down. I didn’t want Shep on the inside. He frightened people, which meant he didn’t go incognito all that well. Plus, he got edgy in crowds. Regardless, he was more use to us on the outside.
“We all good?” I asked Shep.
“Yeah. The Bradys are taking a long nap at their house.” His eyes flicked to Sage’s. “A temporary one.”
I adjusted my cuff links. “Weapons? The drone?”
“Stashed a mile from Dante’s compound. I’ll go get them after I drop you off.”
The thirty-minute drive to Newtown Square took us past the university and along West Chester Pike. As we drew nearer, Sage became more restless.
I squeezed her hand. “Are you all right?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nodded unconvincingly.
We turned off PA-3 and continued along a narrow road surrounded by forest. Every couple of miles, we passed a gated entrance to a stately mansion with gardens.
I leaned toward Sage. “I won’t try to talk you out of this, but if you change your mind, it’s not too late to back out. I’ll still go in and do what needs to be done.”
She swallowed deeply and shook her head. “I’m not backing out. Just giving myself an internal pep talk.”
I kissed her cheek and put my lips to her ear. “That dress looks amazing on you.” My finger traced a path from her throat, over the exposed swell of her breast, and down to the plunging V-neck of the gown. Goosebumps erupted over her skin. “Tell me, what are you wearing underneath?”
Sage drew in an uneven breath. “Not much. A white lace thong.”
“Interesting.” I let my hand creep along her inner thigh, moving higher and higher up the split of her dress until my pinky rested against the thin scrap of material. I made slow circles with my finger, teasing her with the lightest amount of pressure.
Sage shifted in the seat as her lips parted. “Are you doing this to distract me?” she whispered.
“Maybe. Or maybe I have my own sordid reasons for wanting to touch you like this.” I pressed against her a little more firmly, and Sage sucked in a breath. “But I’ll have to continue this later because we’re almost here.”
I handed Sage her Venetian-style mask. It was gold with blue feathers fastened to one side to match her dress. It covered the top half of her face, leaving only her lips and chin exposed. Mine was a snarling bronze wolf.
The first sign of our destination was a ten-foot-tall perimeter wall and manned turret. The mercenary atop it carried an automatic rifle slung over one shoulder. As we passed, he brought a handheld radio to his mouth, probably alerting the main gate to an arriving vehicle.
Shep slowed as we neared the massive iron gates and adjoining guardhouse. Four armed security personnel approached as we came to a stop.
“Showtime,” said Shep before he lowered his pitch-black tinted window.
One guard cast an assessing eye over Shep. “Identification, then pop the trunk.”
Shep handed him a fake ID, which the guard scrutinized before returning.
In the meantime, a second guard checked the trunk while another used a mirror on a pole to look beneath the vehicle.