Chapter 14 – Elias
I s she fucking playing me?
Who the hell are these two assholes?
I’ve been sitting outside Sage’s parents’ house for an hour, watching and waiting. The moment I pulled onto the street, I spotted two black SUVs with tinted windows. The idiots inside both vehicles didn’t notice me parking nearby.
Fucking amateurs.
I pick up my phone from the dock and call my tech guy.
“Run a couple plates,” I bark when he answers, and I list out the letters and numbers.
I ignore his grumbling at me being so brash. I don’t have time for pleasantries.
“Both belong to a Chase Henley,” Phil says after about two minutes and rattles off an address. My phone buzzes a few seconds later with a photo of a guy, but I can’t be sure if it’s any of the men in either SUV .
I sigh and tell Phil to have one of his fancy tech programs scan traffic cameras to find out all the places both vehicles have been so I can figure who this Chase is and if he’s working for someone. I have no fucking clue how it works, but Phil has never failed me anytime I ask for a favor.
Movement from the front door of the home catches my eye and a man on the phone angrily walks out.
That’s the man from the photo. He’s not too tall, five nine at my guess, and he’s got light brown hair that appears greasy in the porch light’s beam.
I’ve easily got 150 pounds on him. He’s pale, too, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat.
His movements are jittery. He’s got to be high on some sort of drug. I’ve seen it too often busting addicts, hoping they’ll narc on their dealer so I can chase down the boss moving drugs throughout New York City.
The man cradles the phone to his shoulder so he can light a cigarette—like he’s the star of some shitty crime movie—then takes out his gun to check the bullets.
Movement again from the front door alerts me to Sage’s presence, listening in on this man’s conversation.
My instinct is to get out and run to her. Protect her.
I can’t. Not yet. I need to see if she’s playing me.
She must have made a noise because the man turns. He lunges, and I watch as he drags Sage outside. He throws her to the ground and kicks her in the stomach.
My hand is on the car door, ready to kill this mother fucker, but he’s already walking off .
Fuck.
That was close.
If I had acted on my impulse to get out, guns blazing in this quiet suburban neighborhood, Sage could have been caught in the crossfire. Not to mention that would have been a huge mess to clean up.
The asshole gets inside one of the SUVs and drives off.
My eyes move back to Sage. She picks herself up off the ground, then flips off the departing SUV. She flips off the two men in the remaining SUV as well.
I smirk at my feisty little queen.
What have you gotten yourself into?
Lance told me about her ex, warning me to be careful with her because he was a piece of shit. He didn’t go into detail but if the man who just left is her ex, I have a feeling he’s back in her life for a reason.
And not a good one.
I call my uncle and tell him to get soldiers ready. As soon as Phil gives me locations, my men will move in.
I wait in my car for another hour until the lights in the house go out, letting me know Sage’s parents have gone to sleep.
Time for answers.
I send her a text.
What are you wearing ?
She’s been ignoring me, of course, but that hasn’t stopped me from sending them.
Level 100 Clinger , and all.
I stuff the phone in my coat pocket and get out.
Walking over to the SUV with the two goons left behind to babysit Sage, I knock on the window. The man in the driver’s seat startles.
Look... if you’re going to be a criminal, you gotta have situational awareness. These two idiots are highly lacking in that area.
He rolls down the window.
“The fuck you want?” he grumbles, attempting to be intimidating.
I throw on a smile and prepare a stereotypical suburban dad voice. Never mind that I’m in a suit and look nothing like a suburban dad.
“Hi there. Neighborhood Watch. I’ve noticed you’ve been parked in front of this house for a while.” I wave my hand around for emphasis. “Can I ask who you’re here to see?”
The man turns his head to look at his friend in the passenger seat and that’s when I attack.
I sink a knife into his temple with my right hand and with my left hand, shoot goon number two. The silencer muffles the sound to an extent, and I can only hope no one peeks out their window or opens their door to investigate the noise .
Not that I’m worried. I have credentials for instances like this. I’ve had to fake being a cop or FBI agent too many times to cover up a crime scene and reassure the public that they are safe from the bad guys.
Lying about one gunshot is better than cleaning up an entire shootout scene.
I considered letting one of these men live to torture information out of him, but then I’d have to store him somewhere until my backup arrives. It’s not worth it, especially since I know Phil will get me what I need.
And Sage is about to tell me everything too.
I tuck my weapons away and pull out my phone.
My heart skips a beat at Sage’s text on the screen.
Reine
I’m not wearing anything. Want to see?
I curse and readjust my twitching cock.
She’s awake. And horny, apparently. Good. Time to confront my deceitful little queen.
Yes. I’ll be right there
Reine
Huh? What do you mean?
I make a call for a cleanup crew to get rid of the bodies, and the SUV, then walk to the home’s front door .
It’s locked, which is good—not that it would have stopped those two idiots I just killed from getting inside—but it might have given Sage and her parents enough time to hide or escape.
Doesn’t matter. The men are dead now.
Using lock picking tools that I keep in my car, I get the front door open and make my way inside.
It smells like Sage in here. Strawberries and vanilla.
I follow her scent to a room; one that’s on the opposite side of the house from her parents’ room.
I hope it’s the right room.
I send Sage a text.
Don’t scream
She answers almost immediately.
Reine
Are you drunk? What are you even talking about?
When I open the door—thank fuck it’s her bedroom—she does, in fact, scream.
I rush over to where she’s lying down on her bed, reading a book, and cover her mouth with my palm. Her eyes flare with fear before narrowing.
“What are you doing here?” she asks against my palm. Her nails dig into my arm. “Let me go, you dick.”
I smirk at her feistiness that I find way too cute .
“You won’t scream again?” I ask, my voice low. She shakes her head.
Not sure if I believe her, but I release her anyway. She stands hastily, glaring at me when she closes and locks her door.
The moment she turns to face me; a fist meets my right eye.
Okay, fine, I deserved that.
“Fuck,” she hisses, holding her hand against her chest. “Is your big head made of rocks or something?”
“You need ice for that,” I say and pivot towards the door.
“Stop,” she snarls. “Lord forbid my parents wake up and catch a massive dude in the kitchen.”
“You’re the one who screamed when I told you not to.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Elias. How the fuck did you find me?”
“Go get ice for your hand and we’ll talk.”
She gives an exasperated sigh, and I grin ear to ear. She rolls her eyes and leaves.
While she’s gone, I snoop.
Pictures are hung up around the room of a young Sage in high school.
Her posing with a flute in a marching band uniform.
Her on stage performing with that flute.
Her with crossed eyes, sticking her tongue out.
Her with a group of girls I assume to be her friends.
Over the years, her style changed. So did her body.
She gained some weight, her hips became more defined, rounder, her stomach softer.
She went from dressing in baggy clothes to form-fitting ones to show off her new-found curves.
Her confidence... the way her eyes light up in photos after finding love for herself. Her smile became brighter.
I move on to photos of her traveling across the country: Chicago, St. Louis, Memphis, Austin, The Grand Canyon, Los Angeles, the Pacific Northwest.
Some photos have been torn in half—someone she ripped out of her life.
This awful ex, if I were to guess.
The rest of her room has been immortalized in nostalgia. Posters of rock bands and celebrities I couldn’t name. A few marching band trophies line her bookcase along with stacks of books—all romance from what I can tell.
Her queen-sized bed is decked out in light pink to match the pale pink walls. Across from the bed is a vanity where I imagine this beautiful woman sitting to put on makeup or style her hair.
Sage has clearly lived a normal life. She has two loving parents, she went to high school and played in the band, she traveled and smiled all the time.
She was happy.
Loved.
I’m sitting on her bed, flipping through one of her photo albums when she returns. She pauses for a second before closing the door and walking to stand in front of me .
She holds out an ice pack. I close the photo album and set it down before taking the pack and covering my aching right eye that will definitely be bruised by tomorrow.
It matches the blossoming bruise on my left cheekbone that Lance gave me from earlier today when we brawled. The fucker taunted me at Lenetti’s before the Christmas lunch.
I won though so I’m not mad.
It was like old times. As a kid, I permanently wore a black eye from wrestling with Lance in the living room until our mom would yell at us for breaking a lamp or knocking over a coffee table. Except now Lance and I are both adults and our punches have bigger consequences.
Sage sits next to me, a second ice pack resting on her knuckles.
“Who taught you to throw a right hook like that?”
She huffs and a burst of air rushes out of her nose.
“I took a self-defense class a few months ago.”
“Impressive.”
“I guess.”
“Were you learning to protect yourself from the man I saw leave earlier? The one who kicked you?”
She nods.