Page 90 of Mad Rivals
“God, it’s hot when you go into smart businessman mode. And athlete mode. All the time, really.”
He laughs. “Allow me to show you just how smart I can be.” He pats his lap, and I stand up from the chair I just occupied, walk back around the desk, and straddle his lap as he pulls me down for one of those intense, soul-shaking kisses of his.
Neither of us brings up our mission for the next week, but he’s busy with minicamp, and he appreciates the full-body massages I give him when he gets home sore and aching as he complains about how he’s getting “too goddamn old” for this.
It’s starting to feel like a real, actual relationship. I’m taking care of him when he gets home from work, just like he took care of me when I was exhausted from flying back and forth to Chicago.
And speaking of flying, we head back to Chicago together on Friday night ahead of our meeting at SCS on Monday morning, and we land a little after nine.
Before we deplane, he glances over at me. “I know we’re not supposed to be seen together or whatever, but I want to get started on finding this place. I have a list of four warehouses I was able to find that are all under Vivicorp’s name, and I want to go look at them tonight. Let’s go to my place and grab my car. Dex should be gone since he had minicamp this week, too, so if you want to stay with me tonight, we should have the place to ourselves.”
I nod. “I didn’t tell my parents I was coming in since I wasn’t sure what the plan was. And I haven’t mentioned anything to Clem, either, but she moved out of my parents’ house last Monday, anyway.”
We take a rideshare to his place, and we run upstairs to grab his car keys. Sure enough, the place is deserted with a note from Dex on the counter.
Thanks for letting me lay low. Back to Vegas for now. Good luck this season except when you play us. -D
He tosses the note in the trash and picks up two cups that Dex must’ve left out. He places them in the dishwasher, and I can’t help my giggle at his meticulousness.
“I mean, he could leave the place like he found it,” he jokes.
“Yeah, two cups. What a dick,” I agree with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Hey, that’s my brother you’re talking about,” he warns, but the twinkle in his eye gives him away.
We both laugh as we head to the elevator, and then we start our mission to figure out what the hell Thomas Bradley is hiding. Our first stop is over at Logan Square, which is about a twenty-minute drive from Madden’s place. He picked the one furthest away to check first, and we’re making our way back toward his place with each of the subsequent stops.
Traffic is heavy, which makes the drive closer to thirty minutes, and when we get to the address, the lights are all off and the place is quiet and dark.
It’s a total dead end.
He tries all the doors, but they’re all locked. It’s a warehouse, and the windows are way up high—too high to allow us to try to see in.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
We run into the same issue at our second stop in Bucktown and our third stop in Wicker Park. They’re just quiet, empty warehouses.
He twists his lips. “Should we bother with the one in the West Loop?” he asks.
“It’s on the way back to your place, so why not?” I shrug, though we’re both pretty convinced that it’s going to be the final dead end.
Only…it’s not.
There isn’t a parking spot to be had on the street, but that’s not unusual for the West Loop on a Friday night. We end up parking a few blocks away from the warehouse and walking to it.
But this one appears to have someone standing out front. He glances around before he opens the door and lets someone inside, and Madden and I exchange glances. When we get closer, though, it gets even stranger.
“Mick?” Madden asks. “What are you doing here?”
Mick glances at me before he answers. “Expecting a warehouse delivery,” he says smoothly.
Like…toosmoothly.
Something is weird here.
“On a Friday night?” Madden glances at the street. “In this traffic?”
Mick nods. “I don’t make the schedule. I just follow it.”
