Page 43 of Brutal Heir

He’s leaning over me, somehow drawing the energy to bite at my nipple through the fabric.

“Maybe, later, we can do both,” I suggest.

He lifts an eyebrow.

“You asked if I wanted to watch, or get the real thing…”

That wicked grin makes another appearance. “That’s my girl. Now let’s get you fed.”

Chapter 25

Sage

I arrive at the guard shack, the engine rumbling as I come to a stop. Ochoa steps out of the booth and saunters up, all swagger and confidence.

“Mornin’, Miss Sage.” He braces the clipboard against his hand, filling in my truck’s information and my name like it’s any other day, but it’s not. Today is Sunday, my day off. The fact he’s acting like nothing’s wrong says more about me and the time I spend at the office than anything else.

“Morning, Ochoa.” I try not to let the realization ruin my day, not after the marvelous way it started. “Anything to report?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head but doesn’t lift his head as he continues writing. “With the holiday, we haven’t had anyone going in and out.”

I glance at the log and see I’m the second line, so only one other person has been by since six o’clock this morning.

“I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Gonna be a long day?” he asks.

I shake my head, “Nope, I should just be here long enough to do some paperwork for tomorrow.”

“I heard a rumor,” he says, his head snapping up so he can look at me. “Is it true the office got sold?”

I’m hesitant to give information, but it’s really a done deal, so what’s the harm in him finding out a few hours early. “Yes,” I finally confirm. “We’ll get the official announcement tomorrow.”

He nods. “Okay. Anything I should worry about?”

He’s concerned about his job. Well, technically, so am I. Nobody really knows what’ll happen with the new owner.

I try to put him at ease. “I don’t think so, but we’ll find out for sure tomorrow.” His shoulders slump in obvious disappointment he won’t get any additional information from me. I give a two-finger wave and move along.

As I drive down the familiar road toward the office, I can feel my nerves starting to creep up on me. The building comes into view. I take a deep breath. Will this be one of the last times I see it?

The parking lot is empty except for Elena’s car, parked neatly in her usual spot. Ah, she was the first line on the log. It doesn’t surprise me. She’s another workaholic, and I’m sure she’s trying to prepare for tomorrow.

I pull up beside it, turn off the engine, and step out into the stillness of the lot. The sun is shining, and there’s a warm breeze, but I can’t shake the feeling something’s off. I glance around, taking stock of the area, looking for any threat, but I’m alone.

I take the steps at a quick pace, hand hovering over the railing. All those safety videos have fueled my habits, over the years. I don’t tend to have issues when I don’t have a big, hunky rancher watching my every move.

The monitor at the door clicks, unlocking as soon as it recognizes the app on my cell. I make my way into the building, my footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. The silence is deafening, and I can feel my anxiety growing with every step. I check her office, but it’s empty.Maybe she’s getting some coffee. But the break room is empty, too, and the bathroom is dark.

The sense of unease I got when I arrived comes back with a vengeance. It’s like I’m the only person left in a deserted city. Where is she? What’s going on? The unanswered questions buzz in my head like angry bees, and I can feel a sense of dread inching closer.

“Elena?” I go running toward the back, in case we happen to have walked in opposite directions. But that can’t be. I would have heard her footsteps, like I can hear my steel-toe boots doing now. “Elena!” I repeat, loud enough for her to hear me anywhere in the building.

I stop at Bill’s office. There are a couple of boxes, partially filled, like he’s packing. What happened here? Has he been fired?

I pull out my phone and unlock it, fingers shaking slightly as I navigate to the contacts list and dial her number. The line is ringing as I head to the back, pushing the bar to throw open the door.

I check the smoking area, even though I know she doesn’t have that habit. Nothing. Then her phone goes to voice mail.

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