Page 50 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

Her laughter, though brief, cut through the tension, and I felt the tightness in my chest ease—just a little. This wasn’t going to be easy, but having Naomi by my side made it feel possible.

The next morning,we prepared to leave. I packed the essentials—flashlights, gloves, a crowbar, and the pistol I’d kept locked away for emergencies. Naomi packed a small first-aid kit and a few other supplies, her movements efficient and purposeful.

As we loaded everything into the truck, she turned to me, her expression serious. “You sure about this?”

“No,” I admitted, my hand tightening on the truck’s door. “But it’s our best shot.”

She nodded, her jaw set. “Then let’s do it.”

The driveto the warehouse was quiet, the tension between us palpable. Naomi stared out the window, her fingers drumming against her thigh in a steady rhythm. I kept my eyes on the road, my grip on the wheel tighter than it needed to be.

When we arrived, the sight of the building sent a chill down my spine. It was exactly as my contacts had described—nondescript, weathered, and surrounded by chain-link fencing. A single light flickered near the entrance, casting eerie shadows across the lot.

“We go in, we observe, and we get out,” I said, my voice low but firm. “No heroics.”

Naomi nodded, her gaze locked on the building. “Got it.”

We moved quietly, sticking to the shadows as we approached the fence. I cut through the padlock with a pair of bolt cutters, wincing at the faintsnickof metal giving way. The gate creaked as we slipped through, but the night remained still.

Inside the lot, the tension ratcheted up with every step. We stayed close, our movements careful and deliberate as we approached the side of the building. A faint hum of voices drifted through the air, and I motioned for Naomi to stop.

We crouched behind a stack of crates, peering through a cracked window. Inside, a group of men stood around a table, their conversation too low to make out. Papers and maps were spread out in front of them, and I caught sight of weapons—guns, knives, and what looked like explosives.

“This is bigger than Jared,” I whispered, my stomach sinking. “The Fold’s planning something.”

Naomi’s hand tightened on my arm. “Then we need to stop them.”

Her determination sent a wave of warmth through me, but it was quickly drowned out by the reality of what we were up against. This wasn’t just about Jared anymore. It was about stopping a threat that could destroy everything we’d worked for.

“If we’re going to do this,” I said, meeting Naomi’s determined gaze, “we do it together.”

Her eyes softened, and she nodded, her hand brushing against mine. “Always.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Naomi

The warehouse loomed in the distance, its silhouette dark against the faint glow of the city skyline. It looked abandoned from the outside—windows broken, paint peeling, weeds growing in cracks along the foundation. But Hudson and I knew better. This wasn’t the first time we’d been here.

Months ago, we’d scouted this same location, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jared and The Fold. We’d seen enough to know it was more than just a meeting spot—it was a nerve center, a place where plans were made, and resources were distributed. But we hadn’t been able to stay long enough to uncover anything concrete. Life, fear, and danger had gotten in the way.

Now, standing just outside the fence line with Hudson at my side, I felt the weight of unfinished business pressing down on me. We hadn’t planned on returning, but the photograph had changed everything. It was a message, a reminder that TheFold hadn’t forgotten us. And if Jared was involved, we couldn’t afford to look the other way.

Hudson crouched beside me, his flashlight off as he scanned the lot. His focus was razor-sharp, every movement deliberate, and it made me feel both safer and more on edge.

“Looks quiet,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“For now,” I whispered back, gripping the strap of the bag slung over my shoulder.

We moved closer, keeping to the shadows as we approached the side of the building. The faint murmur of voices drifted through the night air, and I felt my heart pick up speed. It was quieter than the last time we were here, but the energy was the same—tense, purposeful, dangerous.

We founda broken window near the back of the building and peered inside. The room was dimly lit, the glow from a single bulb casting long shadows across a makeshift meeting area. A few men stood around a table in the center, their expressions serious as they gestured to a map laid out before them.

I strained to hear what they were saying, but the voices were too low, too muffled. Hudson pulled out a small recording device from his bag, setting it on the edge of the windowsill. If we couldn’t catch everything now, we could analyze it later.

“What do you think they’re planning?” I whispered.

“Nothing good,” Hudson said, his jaw tight. “Let’s get closer.”

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