Page 21 of Rugger: The Huntress

“See you in a few,” he promised, pulling the card from his pocket and waving it in the air.

“In a few,” I agreed, watching him unlock his phone to start the search for his accountant’s contact.

It was the only way he’d get such a large amount wired in such a short amount of time unless he had his banker’s home number and didn’t mind waking them out of their sleep.

Without a glimmer of doubt, I knew his eyes were on me as I pushed past the bar hoppers and made my way to my car.

Easy.

Men were borderline embarrassing. They were willing to pull their pants down with the slightest indication they would be receiving pussy. It almost didn’t matter what pussy as long as it was attached to a woman. And, the most pathetic of them all were willing to purchase it, no matter what the ticket price was.

My account was loaded. I would’ve fucked Eric for free. But because I knew he’d pay and because I wouldn’t hear the end of Roulette’s chastising, twenty-five thousand was the compromise.

As I approached the car I was driving for the night, I noticed the car beside it was no longer in sight. With a shrug of my shoulders, I lowered my body into the driver’s seat. I pressed the button to start the engine as my facial features contorted. The piece of white paper underneath the windshield wiper hadn’t been there when I parked.

I lifted the middle console after entering the code. Instead of settling for a firearm that would fit in my purse, I grabbed the largest of the three that were left. With a swipe of my finger, Iremoved the safety and prepared for the dislodging of bullets the second I pressured the trigger.

I dug into my purse and removed my compact mirror. Lowering the sun visor to use the mirror it supplied would leave me exposed. From feet away, one could see everything I was privy to. Though the windows around me were tinted, I simply didn’t trust it.

The black mirror slid out with ease. I held it in the air slightly. My hand never lifted further than my shoulder. Though I was alarmed, the compact mirror didn’t reveal any signs of danger. Nevertheless, I swiped it from one side of me to the other continuously.

After a few minutes without incident, I lowered the mirror, but kept my gun clutched in my right hand. When ready, I exited the car and snatched the note from the windshield. The heated leather seats welcomed me again as I closed the door, curious about the note in my hand.

Barely recognizable handwriting was scribed on the torn sheet. Pointless contact information had my eyebrows hiked and my hand on my chin in contemplation.

Well, I did scratch their car.I kissed the skin of my teeth, still in limbo about my slight miscalculation between my door and theirs.

A name was followed by a number. The make of the car was next to it.

Sonnie. (Beamer)

122-867-2132.

Hadn’t it been for the time I spent studying handwriting and patterns at the university where forensics was my major, I wouldn’t have understood the letters. I squinted to make sure I’d captured each one of their true essence.

Surely, a man had written the note.

Surely, he wasn’t interested in compensation for the scratch.

And,surely, I wasn’t interested in paying his body shop debt.

He’d been given the chance to speak to me but hadn’t taken it. The opportunity had presented itself and wouldn’t do so again. I tossed the note into my purse and fastened my seatbelt.

As I prepared to exit the parking lot, the black flip phone pinged. I lifted the top half to find a message from an unfamiliar number. Nevertheless, I opened it.

It wasn’t often familiar numbers came across the screen. For our safety, we switched them often. Most of us didn’t keep the same digits for more than a week. Others could.

Unknown number: Deposit.

Unknown number: $25,000?

My head lifted and fell immediately after. Satisfied with the trajectory of my night, I shifted the gear. My feet didn’t get a chance to touch the gas before the unknown number was ringing my line.

“I asked you a question,” Royce sassed.

Silently, I pulled out of the parking spot I’d been in for the last hour and a half. Where I was headed was walking distance, but I wouldn’t be walking. I’d pass at least fourteen cameras on my journey toThe Balgaria. I wouldn’t be walking tonight.

“Yes. Anything else? I’m busy.”

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