Page 97 of The Woman in the Garage

But for whatever reason, I decided to ignore it.

The sooner we got all the units empty, the closer we were to getting all this shit handled once and for all.

So we drove toward the next unit in a much lower-tech facility. I swear the cameras were straight out of the nineties.

“Let’s be quick at this one,” I said, not liking the vibe of the place.

It was another interior unit, but half the lights inside weren’t working, making all of us tense as we unlocked the unit and then moved in to grab boxes.

Like we were all on the same uncomfortable wavelength, Dom grabbed one of the old, rusty cart. It squeaked to high hell, but we all wanted to make as short of work as possible of this unit. We piled on all of the boxes, then two of us pushed the heavy cart back outside.

“Millions of product in a place like that?” Dom asked as soon as we were on the road back to Navesink Bank again.

“I wanna know if it’s all product,” Dante said. “It felt different. Even shifted differently inside when we moved them.”

It seemed like it took forever to get back to the docks. Or maybe that was just my weird mood, the tension that was coiled in all of my muscles.

That tightness didn’t lessen as I drove the moving truck to the shipping container at the docks or when we each started to climb in to began removing the totes.

“I just have to check,” Dante said. He reached for one of the yellow lids.

“Santo!” a voice called, sounding tight and tense, making me stiffen.

That was Luca.

And he rarely ever sounded that worried.

“What is it?” I asked, rushing out of the truck, jumping off the back as he strode forward.

“Your fucking phone is off,” he snapped.

I waved back toward the truck, indicating why the phones were off.

“What is it? What happened?”

“There was an emergency at your house.”

“My house?”

My house?

Was Dasha still there?

Was she okay?

“What happened?” I asked, my voice choked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Dasha

I was actually sore.

Like in all my muscles sore.

My thighs groaned as I forced them to carry my weight to the bathroom. My stomach muscles even felt achy, like I’d done a thousand sit-ups.

I mean, I wasn’t complaining. Santo’s stamina the night before meant I’d nearly seen into a new dimension with the last orgasm or two.

---