Page 24 of Volatile Obsessions

Two abrupt knocks at my doors cut my rumination short.

“Come in!” I bellowed, minimizing all the open search windows on my screen and pulling up the security footage.

Vic poked his head inside. “You wanted to see us?” he asked gingerly.

I assumed Roscoe was right behind him, probably cowering like a scolded dog with his tail between his legs. Took every ounce of restraint within me not to roll my eyes. He wouldn’t be cowering if he’d done his blasted job right.

“Sit,” I bit out, motioning toward the empty seats facing my desk.

Vic cleared his throat and gave a little nod, sauntering in first. Roscoe was promptly in tow as suspected. Neither one dared to make eye contact with me as they dropped into the wingback chairs, one fiddling with his silk tie while the other picked at his enormous finger nails.

They were so skittish, they would’ve bowed at my feet had I asked them to.

I almost laughed, but this wasn’t amusing enough to lighten my mood. There was some serious shit to be discussed, and they better hoped they had the right answers…in the shortest amount of words possible. I wasn’t about to sit here all day with them and waste more time.

“I’ve spent the entire morning watching the security footage over and over again,” I started, turning the computer screen toward them. “And I keep coming back to the same questions. Who the bloody hell is he? How the fuck did he know where to find me? And lastly, what in the ever loving motherfuck does he want?”

“We don’t know,” Vic answered quietly. He had the nerve to look sheepish while he was at it.

“We don’t know is not an option. I told you last week I wanted all the details by Monday, and well, today is Monday, Vic, so where are my details?”

“No one knows anything. I searched high and low all weekend, and there’s nothing. Zilch. Nada. He’s clean as fuck.”

No one is perfect, idiot.

“Then how did Hector know he was from New York?” I quizzed, leaning onto my elbows.

“I told you, he overheard his boys talking about it. They have Poker night every week. Hector got there late and walked in on them discussing it.”

“So where are his boys?”

“Gone,” he deadpanned.

This time, I did laugh—softly, as I rose onto my feet and ambled around the desk. My patience had about reached its end.

“Of course they are. How convenient.”

Green eyes narrowed defensively. “What are you trying to say, L?”

“I’m saying it’s pretty damn convenient that his men just vanished into thin air, when they’re the only ones who can help us at this point in time,” I clarified.

“I swear to you, I’ve turned Miami upside down looking for them and any clues as to who this phantom is—”

“Any yet you’ve come up empty handed, so quite obviously you didn’t look hard enough. Pro tip—look harder, Vic, look real fucking hard; between the lines, in every damn crevice, because the hit I’m taking no thanks to this asshole isn’t a goddamn joke! Do you know how much product I have to replace out of pocket? How many orders for Black Widowneed to be duplicated and sent out express? How much supplies needs to be ordered? How many machines need repairs? Again, all out of pocket. He. Fucked. Me. And now I want his balls on a silver platter,” I bit out, literally tasting the venom dripping off my words.

This faceless, nefarious man was evoking the darkest of hate within me and I didn’t even know who he was.

“I’ll find him,” Vic vowed, snapping my gaze back to where he sat.

The meager smirk he offered pissed me right the hell off. What could he possibly have to smile about? His ass was grass if he didn’t get his shit together.

“Damn right you will or you can expect a severe decrease in your hours and your salary. I don’t pay you to do mediocre work.”

Vic nodded and nonchalantly turned towards Roscoe, reminding me of the giant’s presence. Regret and guilt made up his massive aura. His posture, his demeanor, everything.

Good.

“What the hell were you doing while this shit show was going on?” I asked him, crossing my arms.

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