22
Brandon
Somethingtickledmychest.I opened my eyes and wondered if I was still dreaming, because I was greeted by the most stunning morning vision I could imagine.
Sage was already awake, her head tucked into the crook of my neck and one finger tracing the bullet scar on my shoulder. Holding her securely against me, one of her legs resting over mine and my arm wrapped around her, felt like the most natural thing on earth. Luckily the thick duvet covered below my waist or Sage would know exactly how happy I was about it.
I traced my fingertips over the smooth skin of her upper arm. “Good morning.”
Sage tilted her head up. Her shiny locks splayed across my chest. “It happened again, didn’t it? Another nightmare?”
“Yeah. Same as last night.” Sage started to shift away.
“Wait.” I tightened my hold. “Just a little longer.” I breathed a sigh of relief when she relaxed against me. A small victory I intended to make the most of.
I tapped the scar she’d been inspecting. “Afghanistan, Helmand Province. Wasn’t even a clean shot. The bullet ricocheted off a rock and hit me. Just bad luck. Hurt like a motherfucker.” Something she knew all about. I didn’t think asking her about the scar on her thigh was wise considering I wanted her to stay in bed.
“This is nice.” I gave her a squeeze.
“You don’t mind? I don’t want to make things awkward.”
I chose my words carefully because she’d freak out if she knew how much I enjoyed having her in my arms. “Please use my body in any way you desire.”
She chuckled, her breath a warm caress across my skin. “You don’t need to make it sound so…sordid.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” I brushed back the lock of Sage’s hair that had been tickling me and tucked it over her shoulder. I tried to be a gentleman and not stare at her cleavage. I failed badly. The tight gray cami she wore did little to conceal her full breasts pressed against my chest. I guessed my morning wood was sticking around for a while.
“It’s fine, Sage. Really. Sometimes I have nightmares, too. There must be something about having a warm body beside you that keeps them at bay.” Comfort. Safety. I wanted to be those things and so much more for Sage.
“Okay. Thank you. I don’t think I’ve slept so well in years.”
Years.Because it wasn’t the shoot-out at the club or Maxim attacking her in her apartment that made Sage cry out in her sleep.
She tensed, perhaps realizing what she’d said, then wriggled out of my arms. I immediately missed the feel of her. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said and headed for the bathroom.
We spent the day plowing ahead with our mission. I continued my search for irrefutable evidence of Dante’s corruption while Sage monitored his mansion for signs of a strategic move. By evening, my eyes were weary from working at the computer all day. Sage hadn’t complained, but from the slump of her shoulders, I imagined she was feeling it, too.
“Are we missing something here?” Sage grumbled with a note of frustration. “Shouldn’t Dante be rallying the troops and staking his claim on Franky’s empire instead of sending sympathy baskets to Mob wives?” She twisted in her chair to face my desk. Her full lips drew my eyes. Now that I knew what they felt like, what shetastedlike, I could hardly think of anything else.
I slung an elbow over the back of my seat. “He has time to make his move. Franky’s organization has been so dominant that any competing gangs or Mafia families are too weak to take over right away. My guess? Dante’s plotting something with those landline calls he’s making.” I pointed at Sage’s screen and, sure enough, the new Mob boss was making another phone call.
We hadn’t been able to intercept the landline calls because I’d need to access the property and the particular phone in use. Since there were so many in the mansion, I’d decided the exercise was too risky.
“He’s got a crap ton of money,” Sage said. “Maybe he doesn’t want to be top dog? What if he just wants to live out the rest of his days in pampered luxury?”
I grunted. “No, he wants it. I’m pretty sure that’s all Dante’s wanted since he was a kid. He was born into the life, and it’s all he knows. For him, it’s more than the money and notoriety. He believes it’s owed to him. Almost like a royal prince who’s next in line to become king. If anyone else took the position, it would be an affront to him. Dante taking over might be as much about saving face as it is about family tradition or making money.” I tipped my head toward my laptop. “While I’ve got your attention, come check this out.”
Sage removed her pink sweater on the way over. Her messy ponytail hung over one shoulder, and wisps of dark hair framed her face. The white V-neck and ripped jeans she wore were casual, yet they suited her. She didn’t need fancy clothes to look beautiful. As she peered over my shoulder, I inhaled her delicious scent. A hint of her shampoo and something else that was justher. Damn, she smelled good.
“What’ve you found?” she asked.
I played a video. “Wait for it…there.” I hit pause. “See that? We’ve got a bag exchanged.” I let the rest of the recording play so Sage could watch the district attorney of Philadelphia, Stephanie O’Hara, open the bag to inspect reams of hundred-dollar bills given to her by the dickhead who’d shot me, Lou Carello.
“Ho-ly shit. This is huge!” Sage did something behind me that might’ve been a fist pump. She was right to be excited. Capturing someone as high-profile as the DA red-handed was a solid win and proof our hard work was paying off.
I transferred the recording to the rapidly growing evidence file. “Nothing from Santa for our DA this year. She’s been a very naughty girl.”
An alarm sounded from Sage’s computer, the one that alerted us when a vehicle arrived at or left Dante’s mansion.