Page 53 of Wicked Little Nightmare

I snorted. “Yeah, if detectives murdered people and got off on it after. Sure, you’re the best detective that ever lived, Cam.”

“Whatever, you know what I’m saying, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“Awwww, did I hurt your feelings? Did you wanna be a copper when you grew up, baby? I’m sorry. If you squint real hard, we could pass for cops.” Wiggling my ass, I sat on his lap, snaking my arms around his neck.

He puffed out a huge blow of air. “Yeah, it’s whatever. This is our life and I’m happy with it, Lakes. Sometimes I just wish there was more stability.”

“Yeah. Well.” I leaned in to kiss him. “Not like I can have fucking kids now, can I, Cameron? Stability doesn’t matter when it’s just two psychopathic killers doing whatever the fuck they want with no sperm pets to care for.”

“Hey, hey, keep your voice down, baby. For all we know there are actual cops here.”

"Let's blow this joint. I’m tired of this conversation. It is what it is and that should be enough," I said, sliding off the barstool. My legs were still a bit wobbly from the dancing and the booze, and now I was fucking pissed.

“Baby… hey, baby, slow down. I love our life. Don’t think whatever the fuck you’re thinking. I just had some of my own dreams when I was small, okay? That’s all. I wouldn’t give this up even if I was offered a redo. It’s you and me. That’s fucking it.”

Cam's massive hand found the small of my back as we weaved through the crowd. The cool night air hit us as we stumbled out of the club. I took a deep breath, letting it clear my head. We had work to do.

“I believe you. I’m just fucking pissed at how you said it.” I sighed. “In any case, I want to keep going down this rabbit hole. I wanna see how far it goes.” Just like that, my anger dissipated. The Yin to my Yang.

"You sure about this, darlin'?" Cam asked, his stormy eyes searching mine. "Once we start, there's no going back."

I laughed, the sound sharp and dangerous. "When have I ever backed down from a challenge? If we can find Janine, we’re one step closer."

Cam's answering grin was all teeth. "That's my girl."

As we walked to our bikes, my mind was already racing with plans. The satisfaction from dancing was fading, replaced by that familiar itch under my skin. The need to hurt, to destroy. I inhaled deeply. It was always such a temporary fix.

"You know," I mused, swinging my leg over my motorcycle, "I almost feel bad for that thundercunt. Almost."

Cam snorted. "Save your pity, babe. She made her bed."

I revved my engine, feeling the vibrations course through me. "I mean I feel bad that she is going to experience us. Yes, she made her bed. And now we get to bury her in it."

As we tore off into the night, the wind whipping through my hair, I felt that delicious anticipation building. If we found what we were looking for, we’d be that much closer to burning it all to the ground.

Twenty-One: Cam

Lakes wanted to work again tonight, and I couldn’t refuse. The money she made per night was astronomical and it seemed to help level her, so here we were. Again. In this shitty strip club with men the pope’s age, sitting around with their tiny dicks in their hands. I lounged in my usual spot, nursing a whiskey and eyeing the crowd. Lakey was in rare form tonight, her hot pink wig bright as fuck as she gyrated in the cage with another dancer. The nipple tassels were a nice touch. I smirked, knowing the poor schmucks drooling over her had no idea what she really was.

My gaze drifted, scanning faces with practiced ease. That's when I spotted him - a guy in the back corner who stuck out like a sore thumb. Crisp suit, ramrod straight posture, eyes darting nervously. Everything about him screamed "I don't belong here."

I leaned forward, intrigued. "Well, well. What do we have here?"

As I watched, another man slid into the booth across from Mr. Out-of-Place. Something about him tugged at my memory, but I couldn't place it. He was a big guy, bald. Filled out his suit to the point of the seams straining where they joined. Goddamn… I knew him. Why couldn’t I place him? Fuck, that was gonna bug me all night.

The newcomer's body language was all wrong too — tense, alert. These guys weren't here for the tits and ass. No, they were up to something.

I drained my glass, mind racing. Where the hell did I know that second guy from? An old mark? Someone from juvie? The face was so damn familiar, but the name danced just out of reach.

"Looks like we've got some party crashers," I muttered, signaling the bartender for another drink. "Question is, what are they after?"

My eyes flicked back to Lakey, still putting on one hell of a show. If these guys were a threat, she'd want to know. But first, I needed more intel.

I stood, stretching casually as I made my way towards their table. Walking by some dancing women and ignoring the way they stared at me, I stopped just before hitting their booth, leaning against the wall, pretending to be engrossed in Lakey’s performance.

“Hey. Scram, mutt.” A large meathead stood in front of me, sizing me up.

I yawned, and stretched my arms above my head, pulling myself to full height. I had at least two inches on this prick, but he far outweighed me in the all-brawn club.

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