Page 43 of Buried Too Deep

His last stop was Sage’s old bedroom, where a few of his grandson’s clothes still hung in his closet. This included the black hoodie that Alan borrowed whenever he needed to meet with someone discreetly.

“Alan?”

Alan wheeled around, startled. Lexy stood in the doorway, her brows furrowed. “You scared me,” he huffed, pressing a hand to his heart. The guns weighed heavy in his jacket, but the hoodie in his hands would hide any evidence of his overstuffed pockets.

“Are you all right?” Lexy asked. “You look pale, dear.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I need to do an emergency visit tonight. You should have dinner without me.”

Disappointment flickered across her features. She was a beautiful woman, still young. Eighteen years his junior. She’d been twenty-five when they’d met, the same age that Sage was now.

Alan knew she’d married him for his money, but she’d been faithful to him. She’d never cheated. Which he knew because he had a PI on retainer who made sure Lexy remained the sweet, beautiful, submissive wife that Alan needed her to be.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll make you a plate and leave it in the fridge. Do you want me to call Drake to bring the car around?”

“No. I’d planned to stay in tonight, so I told him to take the night off. This call just came in. I’ll call an Uber.”

“I understand. Be careful out there.”

“I will. I promise.”

When she was gone, he put the hoodie on and zipped it up, camouflaging the guns in his pockets. One more stop to make before he was ready to confront Medford.

He called an Uber, putting in the closest hotel as his pickup point, then walked down the street and past the gated entrance to his community, waving to the security guard on duty. He often walked around his neighborhood in the dark. The guard ensured it was completely safe to do so. But sometimes, when Alan needed to clear his head, he left the community behind, walking the streets of Uptown. That he was doing so tonight would raise no suspicions with the guard.

The night was brisk, cooling his overheated skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickled down his spine. His mind was all tangled around what he was about to do. It had been the same that night twenty-three years ago. Like then, he had no choice. No good choice, anyway.

He made it to the hotel, a headache brewing behind his eyes. Light hurt more every day, especially the headlights from cars.

He was relieved when the Uber pulled up. The driver was young and more interested in the music he had softly playing than the older man in his back seat. Which was fine with Alan.

Within minutes, he’d been dropped off at the Xavier University campus, where he could get lost in the foot traffic. He walked a few blocks to the storage unit he’d rented in the name of a relative he hadn’t seen in years. She had no use for the cars he kept there.

Alan, on the other hand, sometimes needed to go places that he didn’t want his driver—or anyone else—to know about. He kept a delivery-style van and a common black sedan in the storage unit. His compromised eyesight made it harder to drive now, but he had his special glasses to reduce the glare and he didn’t have to go too far.

He had an appointment with Medford Hughes.

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 7:40 P.M.

Holy fucking shit.

Sage ripped his gaze from Cora Winslow’s house to stare at the camera feed on his phone. He hadn’t expected to hit pay dirt this fast, but his phone had beeped, notifying him that the cameras in Alan’s office had been triggered.

And now his grandfather was opening a secret safe. A secret safe, for God’s sake. In the wall. Behind a hinged shelf.

Sage had never known it existed. That any of it had existed.

And from it, his grandfather was pulling a gun.

And a silencer. What the hell?

And a second gun.

The old man had guns? Really? Sage had never known that. He’d never seen a single gun in the entire house growing up.

“I just wasn’t looking in the right place,” he muttered.

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