Page 18 of Volatile Obsessions

“Take his word, Vic—he’s not fibbing. Do what you need to do and be done with it. Enough with the theatrics,” I hissed, my voice so deathly low, even Stryker shifted on his feet before me as he flicked his cigarette to the asphalt. “And when you’re done, start asking questions. Lots of questions. I want to know who this phantom tosser is by Monday.”

“I don’t know if that’s doable, Lux. I’m gonna need more than—”

“Make. It. Doable, Kane. Answers, Monday. Goodbye.”

Click.

Shoving the phone into my pocket, I all but growled in exasperation, pushing off the brickwork behind me. My hands snaked into my hair, tugging at the roots.

What the hell was happening to my city?

First Ramos, now this newbie from Yonkers. Didn’t anyone around here have fucking manners anymore?

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Stryker began, holding his hands up surrender. “Need me to have Deja book you in next week? I can move some shit around.”

“Fuck that,” I waved him off, “I came here to get tatted. I’m not walking out until it’s done. Vic can handle this shit show. It’s a joke anyway.”

Little did I know that, not only was the joke on me, it was only just getting started…

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