15. Cash
Chapter Fifteen
Cash
I get Haven tucked into bed, all sexed out and gorgeous as she relaxes against her pillow. She’s given me a key, so I can lock up behind me as I let myself out and slide into the night.
Upstairs, her landlady’s light is out. Most of the street looks tucked in for the evening, too.
I have the walk back to the garage to myself, and I take full advantage of it to replay how sweet and soft her tits were as she rode my cock to an orgasm, and then tumbled to her knees because she wanted to see that dick for herself.
So. Fucking. Sexy.
I drag in a rough, satisfied, addicted breath as I cut alongside the garage. The security light flicks on—
And my steps slow as I approach the door.
There’s a folded piece of paper shoved against the handle, the edge of it wedged into a minuscule crack between the knob and the door.
I yank out my phone and swipe into the app that connects to my security cameras.
An hour ago, while I was distracted by the sweetness of Haven’s fingers on my cock, someone approached this door.
They stood just out of camera range, testing the lights coming on and going out, three times before they approached.
I don’t see much of them. Whoever they are, the were clever enough to figure out the arc of the camera’s view, and they skirted along the edge of it.
Dressed in a dark hoodie with the sleeves pulled over their hands, they press themselves against the wall as they leave the note for me.
I flip to the always recording view of the front of the garage, but they skirt around the outskirts of that camera view, too.
Fuck.
I snatch the note and flip it open.
You’re making a big mistake.
The handwriting is careful and neat. LIke a carefully ironed polo shirt at eight in the morning.
No, Jeb Martin. You’re the one making a big fucking mistake.