Page 21 of Turmoil's Target

“Let’s get this over with,” I mutter, gripping the leather steering wheel tightly.

My heart pounds in my chest as I pull out of the condominium complex and onto the empty street.

The colorful lights of the Strip twinkle in the distance as we speed down the highway, a stark contrast to the inky darkness stretching out before us.

I can’t shake the feeling of unease prickling at the back of my neck.

Something big is going to happen while we’re living this lie.

I can feel it.

“You talk to Damon?” Jolt asks, his voice low and gruff. “He say anything about what this meeting’s really about?”

I shake my head, jaw clenched. “Nah. Just said to meet him and Dixon at that dive bar outside the city. Gotta keep things on the down low, in case anyone’s watching. I’m sure he just wants an update, though.”

Silence fills the car for a moment, the only sound is the hum of the engine and the soft crackle of the police scanner.

I reach over to flip it off.

No need to know what the pigs are up to tonight.

We’ve got enough on our plate already.

My mind races as the miles fly by, replaying my last conversation with Seraphina.

Her sultry voice, enticing me, teasing me, promising things to come...I grit my teeth.

I can’t let that bitch get under my skin the way she is.

This is just a job, nothing more.

I need to stay focused, find out her secrets, her plans.

I have to take her and her mother’s operation down.

But even as I try to convince myself, I can’t ignore the twisting in my gut, the part of me that wonders if I’m getting in too deep.

If I’m not careful, one wrong move could blow this whole thing to shit, and maybe take me and Jolt down with it.

Hell, I love the sex I have with her.

It’s mind-blowing, and she’s a damn good lay.

I have to tell myself this is like sleeping with a clubwhore.

No attachments, just one goal—get off—or well, two goals.

Get off, and get information.

I tighten my grip on the wheel until my knuckles turn white, the cool metal of my gun digging into my back.

There’s no going back now.

Whatever Damon and Dixon have to say, whatever they need us to do...we’re in this until the bitter end.

The Mustang’s engine growls as I push the pedal to the floor, speeding faster into the darkness.

Within an hour the Mustang rumbles into the parking lot of a run-down dive bar on the outskirts of Carp, kicking up gravel and dust.

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