Page 11 of Devious Obsession
Kaz calls my name.
“Sorry, just the neighbors slamming doors. Everything’s fine,” I assure him, and he tells me again to call our brothers. Once I’ve promised to do just that, I hang up with him and do a quick search of the apartment.
Everything’s locked, and I’m alone. I sigh. I really need more sleep. The nap I took this afternoon obviously wasn’t enough.
Grabbing the needlepoint project I started last night, I climb into bed and thread the needle. I’m working on a forest scene. A lot of single stitches of green. It’s therapeutic.
Shit. I pricked my finger with the tip of the needle. I drop the project to the bed and suck my finger where blood beads.
A call comes through my phone and I snag it.
“Hey.” I swallow.
“There’s a warehouse on Mass Ave. I’ll text the address. He’ll give you fifteen minutes.” All so cryptic for a simple meeting. A second later a message pops up on the screen with the location.
“I know it. Give me twenty?” I’m already out of bed, grabbing for my sweater.
“You come alone. If anyone’s with you, he’ll be gone.”
“I got it, I’ll be alone?—”
“Not even a fucking Uber driver.”
“Yeah, I got it. Like I said, no one will be with me.” The only reply is for the call to end.
I shove myself into my jeans and a sweater, find the envelope, and double check everything I need is in there before I stuff my phone into my pocket.
“Shit. Almost forgot.” I yank open the top drawer of my nightstand. The only thing I took from my brother’s house before I left, a Glock, stares up at me. I grab it and tuck it away. It’s cold and heavy against my skin.
Grabbing my coat on the way out of my apartment, I take a deep breath before the cold air of the night steals it away. I can do this. It’s just a meeting.
I can get this done.
Only everything depends on it.
There’s a single man standing outside the warehouse doors. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans with black boots. His hands are folded in front of him, and his shoulders are rolled back.
If he’s trying to look intimidating, he’s missing the mark. He’d be better suited for guarding a dance club line than this place, but it’s good for me so I’m going to withhold judgment.
He eyes me as I pull up close to the door, but he doesn’t make any move toward me when I cut the engine.
After a short pep talk, I pop my door open, grab my jacket, and climb out.
“Hey.” I smile at him while stuffing my arms into my coat and zipping up. It’s cold tonight, but my blood is running hot and there’s already a thin veil of sweat covering my back.
“I’m meeting Janis.” I stuff my hands into my pockets, wrapping my hand around the small switchblade Ivan gave me for my eighteenth birthday.
I doubt he had this sort of situation in mind when he gave me the piece.
“Anyone with you?” He ducks his head, trying to see into my car.
“No. Just me, no plus one.” I tighten my smile.
His beady eyes narrow on me, then he scans me up and down as though he’s some sort of robot with x-ray vision.
“It’s really cold out here, can we go inside?” I gesture toward the door and breeze past him. He puts his arm out to block me from grabbing the handle.
“I need to check you first.” He pushes his chest up against me. His hot breath wreaks of pepperoni and onions.
