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I give him a small smile. “Thanks.”
I sit there, unsure of what else to say. After another moment, Jay stands abruptly without turning to me.
“Come back here tomorrow,” he says, pausing in the ‘doorway’ before crawling back into his garbage can haven. My brows are knit as I stand, pushing the bucket-seat to the side.
“Okay,” I say, “guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I walk off feeling even less sure, but I suppose I can always just not go even if he gets me the audition. Sarah’s words run through my mind as I head back to the apartment.
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
Atlas
Last Friday Night
It’sanother two days before I get a call back from Riot and all he has is a satellite phone number. Apparently, my call will be expected. Using a burner phone, I dial the number.
“Atlas,” Killian replies, and I can hear the frown in his voice. “How the hell did you find us? Everything okay?”
“Why the fuck were you so hard to get a hold of? Why don’t you tell me if everything’s fucking okay?”
He hesitates a moment before clearing his throat. “What happened?”
My teeth clench. “Again, why don’t you tell me, Kill. I’ve got some pretty fucking unwelcomed visitors showing up, and I have a real fucking suspicion it has something to do with you and your bitch. Where the fuck are you?”
“Fuck,” he mutters. I hear vague whispers through the phone, as though he’s talking to someone else.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“We can be back in maybe ten days, we can talk then,” he tells me. “Can’t talk over the phone.”
I exhale deeply through my nose. Notnearlygood enough.
“Fine.”
My mind whirls as I open the safe at my feet and pull out stacks of bills, putting them in a nondescript backpack. Riot will be expecting his payment. I put the bag on my desk and pull out a smoke, thinking, while I let the smoke trail through the small room.
Three days until the fight. I imagine I’ll find out pretty fucking quick whether this asshole is coming for a good fight, or something else. It’s gotta be something else.
* * *
I’m sittingat a bar around the corner the following night when my phone rings, and I glance down to see that fucker Eli has messaged me. My grip tightens on the pint as I pull open the message.
“Two days. We’ll send our people early to set up.”
I read the message several times before putting the phone down.
“You look dour as fucking ever.” I look up to see Riot staring down at me, his large muscular arms crossed and a grin on his face.
“Fuck off,” I reply, chugging down my drink. His grin only grows as he takes a seat. I glance over at the man, surprised as always by his appearance. You’d like someone who works as a private investigator slash assassin would be more subtle, but that’s never been Riot’s way. His hair is a deep blue, a mohawk pulled back from his face to reveal the swirling tattoos on the side of his head and neck. Most of his body is covered in ink, colors of creatures and half-naked women, everywhere I look.
“You look like a walking fucking porno,” I tell him, nodding at a newer-looking piece on his forearm, a naked woman with a face full of cock. Riot looks down at his arm.
“Got it a few weeks ago,” he tells me, not phased by the comment. “After this one bitch, oh man, she sucked dick like—”
“I’m not here to hear about you getting your dick sucked,” I interrupt, pulling the backpack from my feet and tossing it onto the seat beside him.
Riot chuckles, grabbing the back without looking in it.
