Page 7 of Wicked Little Nightmare

“Jones? Really man? Do you have any fucking idea how long that will take.”

Leaning forward, I pressed the tip of my knife to the inside of his thigh. “Did you know all it takes is a knick to your inner thighfor you to bleed out within sixty seconds? Do you think anyone will try to save your life if I were to tell them you murdered children?”

His eyes were wide as saucers as he stared at me, his voice a rasp, “But I didn’t murder children…”

“They don’t know that.” I smirked as his fingers trembled. “Now get working.”

The grating sound of his nails dragging on the keyboard was the only sound in the bar as I waited for him to find my prey.

“Beer and a… muffin.” The waiter said as he put down the order, sounding bored. “That’s $7.50.”

Giving him a ten, I waved him off and watched Skeeter.God, this was so boring.

“Cam? I got what you wanted.” He finally said, breaking the suffocating silence. “The Almines are in Oakland, I’ve got their address here. They have a foster kid too, if you want her too…”

“Great. And the Jones’?” Oakland wasn’t far. About 20 minutes if I broke the speed limit.

“I need more time.” He was sweating. So profusely, in fact, it was rolling down his forehead in drips. “I… I… can forward it to you when I get a hit.”

“Actually, why don’t you come home with me, Skeeter. My girl has made dinner.” A grin tugged at the corner of my lips as I opened my buzzing phone and read the text from Lakey.

His chubby hand pawed at his face as he blinked, no doubt trying to clear the burning from his salty sweat falling into his eyes. “I, uh… I’d rather stay here, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Now, now, don’t be rude. She went to great efforts to cook your dinner.” It was true. Lakey couldn’t cook worth shit. The last time she cooked dinner, she made mac and cheese, and it was basically soup. For some reason she was averse to using measuring cups. ‘It’s all in the eye, Cam.’ She’d said while pouring at least two cups of milk in and then stirring.

“Hooooookaaaayyyyy.” He huffed, packing up his laptop and stepping down from the bar, not even touching his beer.

“You might wanna grab that muffin.”

“Right, yes. Okay.”

I stuffed down a laugh as his short, fat legs struggled to keep up with me as we walked out of the bar. “It’s a short walk, don’t worry, Skeets.”

True to my word, we were at the apartment in less than five minutes, but in Skeeter time, it was probably five hours the way he was puffing.

“You good, buddy? Not gonna have a heart attack, are ya?” I clapped him on the back and opened the lobby door before helping him to the elevator. Lakey could kill him later, but I did need him alive long enough for the rest of the addresses. Everything else that came after, didn’t matter.

“Why’d you have to bring me here, man? We coulda just stayed at the bar.”

He’d never even met Lakey, and he was afraid of her.Interesting.

“Good question, Skeeter. I’m so glad you asked me that.” The elevator dinged and I stepped forward as he shrunk backward. Using force to push him out, he stumbled, but I gripped his shirt to stop him from falling. “Lakey is… well she’s particular. We grew up together. So, a long, long, LONG time ago, we made a pact that we wouldn’t hide our… acquaintances from each other.”

“Ya’ll don’t have secrets?” He looked astonished.

I smiled and motioned to our apartment. “Not even one. Well, except this one. This work that you’re doing for me will be a secret until her birthday, because some secrets are actually surprises. But no, Skeeter, we don’t hide things from each other. Lakey even knows about the women I fuck on the side. In fact,she encourages me to slide my cock into whatever mediocre hole comes onto me. It’s a fun little game we play.”

Skeeter looked sideways at me and shook his head, stepping into the apartment when I opened the door, trying to shrink into the smallest possible shape as I moved past time. Hard to do when you’re the size of a small rhino, so I was impressed. “Ya’ll are fucking weird.”

“Hellooooooo!”

“Hi, baby!” Locking the door, I pushed our guest into the living room before grabbing Lakey and kissing her. “This is Skeeter, our guest. He is doing some computer work for me, so we will be in the office. Dinner smells divine, what are you making?”

She grinned. “Oh, that’s just onion and garlic. I haven’t even started cooking yet. I pulled up a Gordon Ramsay recipe. Beef Wellington. Says that it is his best.” Waving a knife towards where a butchered piece of beef sat, she continued, “I just need to roll these in that pastry and cook it in the oven and then we can eat.”

Narrowing my eyes at the thick cuts, I ventured a question, “Did the recipe say how long it takes to cook?”

“Ummmm...” She pulled up her phone. “Oh fuck.”

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