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Sage

Thatevening,whileperchedon the thigh of a shirtless Brandon, I sketched in a notepad while he worked at his computer. This was the compromise we’d agreed to. Despite my suggestion that having my ass in his lap would be a distraction from his important work, he’d insisted that me being across the room would only cause him to leave his seat every five minutes.

The man was insatiable. To be fair, I couldn’t keep my hands off him, either. A shared glance, a brief touch. They inevitably ended with us naked in bed. Or in the shower, against the wall, or on this very chair.

A thrill shot through me at remembering the look on Brandon’s face when I’d knelt before him. How his eyes had widened in initial surprise, then morphed into intense, dark desire. And how he’d gripped my hair and uttered a string of filthy words when I’d taken him to the back of my throat.

“What’s so funny?” Brandon asked when he noticed the small smile on my lips. His hand crept up my bare thigh and under my T-shirt. Actually, it was his T-shirt. I’d taken to wearing it because I loved being surrounded by his scent.

With difficulty, I remained focused on my notepad and continued sketching despite the long fingers inching their way between my thighs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He nuzzled my neck, making my toes curl. “I could make you tell me.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t hate that.” I wriggled in his lap. His hardening cock pressed through his jeans and against my ass. How were we getting any work done?

With a low growl, Brandon nipped my ear, making me squirm even more. “I think I’ve been too gentle with you. Maybe it’s time that changed.”

My mind instantly went to the one time he’d landed a firm slap on my bare ass and the delicious tingles it had sent right to my core. “Maybe I wouldn’t hate that, either.”

He gave me a look that was pure, unbridled heat. “Now seems like a good time to find out.”

I tossed the notepad on the desk, removed his black-framed specs, and wrapped my arms around him.

“What’s that?” he asked, eying the sketch I’d almost completed.

“I was going to show you when I finished. It’s a tattoo.” I picked up the notepad, and an unwanted shiver passed through me at what the drawing represented. “This was on the forearm of the drive-by shooter. The cops didn’t find a match in their database during the investigation. If they even checked at all. But I also had an FBI agent look into it recently. She didn’t find a match, either.” I told Brandon all about Agent Williams and how I’d convinced her to help.

“I have my own database. Didn’t I mention that?”

I sat up. “No.”

“Too many records get conveniently removed from the official one. Mine is more comprehensive.”

“Can you check this for me?”

“Of course. Let me look at it.”

Brandon’s brow creased as he considered the sketch of the attacking eagle. His silence unnerved me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“This looks familiar.”

“I did some research years ago. I think it might be military.”

“I don’t think so. At least, it’s not like the ink I’ve seen on our soldiers. Something’s not quite right.” His eyes came to mine. “How accurate is this?”

“I only glimpsed the shooter’s arm for a second before he started firing, but I’m pretty sure it’s correct.”

“Let me check something.”

Brandon opened a new window on his laptop. Photos of distinguishing scars, piercings, and tattoos flashed across the screen. He refined the search criteria and clicked through several images until he stopped at one.

My bones turned to ice.

I studied the close-up photo of the bare torso. The man was solidly built with thick muscle. Not as toned as Brandon’s physique, but stockier. Unquestionably powerful. Ink covered the brutal chest, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from his meaty forearm. Brandon was right. I had missed a detail. Looking at it now, I wondered how it had escaped me. The eagle had two heads.