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The bar atJay'swas homey as usual. The 1920s theme gave the entire place a fun atmosphere, but for once, the oldie’s music and classically dressed rollerblading servers couldn’t cure my sour mood.
I tapped my foot on the metal rung under the old school table as the minutes ticked by—Cassie was late, and my heartbeat picked up with each passing second.
“Where the hell are you, Cassie?” I whispered to myself.
“Hiya, doll. What can I grab for you this fine night?” The chipper tone of the young waitress was like a slap to my ears.
I jolted, looking up at her smiling face and classically done 1920s thick black eyelashes, pretty pink blush, and the notorious ruby red lipstick.
“Uh, just a water for now,” I mumbled, looking around her at the door for the umpteenth time.
Deciding my patience was too thin, I dialed her number and brought the receiver to my ear. It went straight to voicemail.
Again.
Trying not to shake visibly, I left a clipped message asking ‘where in the ever-loving fuck she was’ and hung up. My nerves were shot, and my nails were bleeding stubs. Glancing up, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the doorway.
My sister.
She was safe.
Standing up, I ran over to her and squeezed the living daylights out of her. “Oh my god! Cassandra Eva Fox, I am going to kill you!”
She squeaked from my rough hug and tapped my shoulders where she could reach.
“Ella, you know I love my dieting, but you’re about to make me puke up my lunch,” she said in a breathless tone.
I let her go and stared at her.
She was in a black knee-length dress. Her short brown hair was perfectly curled, her makeup flawless, and her signature platform heels, which had black lace on the front of them and an intricate design on the side of them, covered her feet.
“You had me worried sick,” I said, wagging my finger at her.
She grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, my client ran late.”
I gave her a pointed look. My aggravation was evident. “I’m going to chop off this client’s dick. I thought something happened to you.”
She sighed. The exasperation and tiredness started to crack her perfect mask.
“I’m sorry,” she said again more sincerely. “I got here as soon as I could. My phone died because I was on the outskirts of town, and I lost my charger between the couch cushions or something yesterday.”
I blinked, rolling my eyes, but accepted her answer.
Sitting down, I calmed my breathing and finally spoke up. “So, what is this information?” Lowering my tone, I leaned forward. “About the Butcher? And how did you get it?”
She grinned triumphally with sparkles in her blue-gray eyes.
“Well…” she said primly. “I slept with him.”
I gaped at her, waiting for a ‘gotchya’ to come with that statement, but it didn’t. “You did what?”
My body physically began shutting down, but she continued. “Yeah. So, Margo told me a big baddie wanted something new, and I asked her to set up a meet.”
I couldn’t form words, and she took that as a sign to continue.
“It wasn’t long. He is like the quickest fuck I’ve ever had. He paid a few grand and gave me his card with the name of some warehouse in West Stanton.”
