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Think, idiot, think.

My eyes widen as I realize I do know someone who might know where she is. Whether or not I can trust them is another matter.

I stand and take one more look at Eternity before heading back toward my car, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

Hold on just a bit longer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," I reply.

There's a short pause before he replies.

"Kill. Long time, man. How ya been?"

"I need a favor," I say without preamble.

Another pause.

"Listen, man, I already told you I can't…"

"This isn't about Katrina. Besides, you know you fucking owe me after that shit with the Reds."

"Fuck," he grumbles. "Your shit ain't good for business, man. What the fuck you need?"

"I need some addresses," I reply cryptically. "Where are you? I'm coming now."

I pull up to the curb, ignoring the no parking sign. There sure as fuck aren't any traffic cops out here.

Even in daylight, the neighborhood has an oppressive aura that seems to darken everything. A crackhead scurries off when I open the door, and I feel eyes on me from the dark corners of the street as I approach the heavy steel door.

Places like this remind me of my youth and are strangely comforting. At least in places like this, I know where I stand. There’s no duplicity—not like that anyway—on the street. What you see is what you get. If you know you can’t trust anyone, then everything gets real easy.

I’ve kept only a few contacts from that life, and the one I’m about to use isn’t one I call on without real need. But going up against the Iron Elite isn’t a small ask, and I know I have to be careful.

The door opens almost immediately. I step in and look into Atlas’s face. The burned side of his face looks horrifying under the sepia light and his hair pulled back from his face only heightens it.

Despite his appearance, he is one of the few people I can trust. He’s the kind of man who won’t stab you in the back, but if he doesn’t like you, he will tell you before he fucking stabs you. The lack of duplicity and his intelligence are what make me come to him now.

“Long time, man,” I greet with props, which he returns, though he watches me suspiciously.

“Come on,” he says. “We’ll talk in the back.”

I follow him down the dark hall into the warehouse. A haze of smoke drifts in the air and the smell of alcohol and sweat is suffocating. A few poker games are going on, though no one looks up as we pass.

“Business seems good,” I comment as we enter the small back room and he closes the door behind us.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Kill?” Atlas asks.

“I told you, I need some addresses and information, and you owe me.”

He hisses through his teeth and sits at the desk. I don’t need to remind him of our history together and the things I did for him.

“I know I’m gonna fucking regret this,” he mutters. “Alright, tell me what’s going on?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Remember Me

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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