Page 44 of Masked Mayhem

She lifts her cropped hoodie over her head, revealing a snug baby tee that leaves little to the imagination. My gaze immediately drops to her exposed stomach and the glimmering belly ring that sparkles in the light streaming through the balcony door. Her jeans fit like a second skin, hugging her curves just right, with a sliver of her thong peeking out as she bends down to remove her heels. I can’t seem to tear my fucking eyes away from her, and neither can Cade.

Cade sits on the arm of the couch, equally entranced by her beauty. When she meets my gaze, I notice a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. She’s in her element and undeniably comfortable, and I love the fucking confidence she's exuding.

“13, I guess you’re on rolling duty,” she says, already unbuttoning her jeans. “Have it ready by the time I finish changing. I want to get completely fucking blitzed on my first night back.”

As she turns to walk away, my eyes linger on her ass, watching closely as she moves toward her bedroom, leaving the door ajar—a tempting invitation I’m hesitant to accept, especially amidst the chaos of recent events.

Once she’s out of sight and earshot, Cade turns to me, a spark of mischief in his eyes. His smirk suggests he has something planned—something I know I’ll enjoy.

“Damn, I want her so bad,” he groans, eyes fixed on her room in case she makes a sudden appearance.

“Me too, but she’s been with Havoc this past week. He’s probably twisted her mind into thinking we're the fucking bad guys,” I reply, focused on rolling the blunt she asked for.

What she doesn’t know is that I pull out a bit of molly I got from the club and sprinkle it onto the ground weed, fulfilling her desire to get fucked up. Cade chuckles, fully aware of my intentions, shooting me a devilish look as I add more than I probably should. We’re familiar with the drug, but I’m not sure about her tolerance, so I know I have to tread carefully. I finish rolling the blunt, my hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.

“There we go,” I say, passing it to Cade, who inspects it with an exaggerated scrutinizing look before grinning like he’s just fucking won the lottery.

“Perfect,” he says, tucking it between his lips as we wait in anticipation for Whitney’s return.

As the sound of her footsteps echoes from the bedroom, I can’t help but feel the electric tension in the air. I’m hyperaware that this moment could change everything between us—whoever “us” might end up being.

Whitney reappears, hair tousled and wearing a loose tank top that clings to her chest just enough to leave us guessing. The faded fabric of her tiny shorts hangs low on her hips, showcasing her carefree vibe. She stretches, yawning dramatically for effect while we both feast our eyes on her. If it weren’t for the circumstances surrounding her, I could easily lose myself in a daydream just admiring her.

“Did you miss me?” she says, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as she steps barefoot on the carpet. Her tone is playful, but there's an underlying seriousness that hints at the weight of what’s hanging over us.

“Always,” Cade answers too quickly, a bit too eagerly.

He raises the blunt and lights it, drawing in a large hit before passing it to her. His eyes widen with delight when she takes it and inhales deeply.

I watch her as she leans back against the couch, letting the smoke curl around her like a warm hug, and suddenly I think of the plan we’ve concocted. This job could offer so much more than certainty and safety; it could give us all a chance to coalesce into something stronger. Something she never even knew she wanted.

“Let’s have some fun tonight,” I suggest, suddenly feeling a surge of possessiveness.

She shouldn’t have to worry about the monster lurking in the shadows. Her apartment should feel like a sanctuary, not a fucking prison.

Cade nods enthusiastically, drumming his fingers on the couch arm. “Yeah, let’s just relax and forget everything for a bit.”

Whitney smiles, taking another drag from the blunt before handing it back to Cade. “I’ll drink to that,” she says, moving to pour herself a drink from the bottle.

The sound of ice clinking in the glass is an oddly comforting call to arms—a precursor for the mayhem we might unleash tonight. As she pours, I lean back against the couch, feeling the weight of my thoughts shift like the clouds outside. She deserves to unwind, to forget the grasp of fear that's been holding her hostage. Whatever this night brings, I want her to feel free and safe in our presence.

“So, what’s the plan for our night?” Whitney asks, her eyes sparkling. “I want something epic. Maybe something wild?”

“Why not?” Cade suggests, his grin widening. “We can have a repeat of the other night when we both got to fuck that tight, sinful cunt of yours."

Whitney perks up at this, a devious grin spreading across her face. As the first of her laughter echoes off the walls, I feel my heart lighten. Tonight, we’ll carve a sanctuary out of this chaos. This moment is ours—together—without the world creeping in.

But just as Whitney takes a seat between us, a chill runs down my spine. The door creaks, and all three of us abruptly turn towards it, every sense on high alert, with me and Cade pulling out our weapons and pointing them toward the door. The air changes, electricity crackling as noise filters through the room. My stomach tightens as Whitney looks at us suspiciously, obviously not missing the move that many law enforcement do, and it worries me that we just fucked up our cover in the smallest of fucking ways.

“Did you hear that?” Cade whispers, his playful demeanor vanishing instantly.

“Yeah,” I murmur back, a knot forming in my chest.

We may be here to build a safe haven, but lurking outside is a threat that could destroy everything we’re trying to protect.

“Whitney, stay close,” I urge, as our night of fun suddenly feels like a thin veil masking the potential for violence.

I glance at Cade, who nods as the sound grows louder. He gets up to check it out, moving like a cop through the night, his purpose to protect and serve, but in doing so, we might have just blown our fucking cover.

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