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It took me less than three seconds to decide before I was on my feet, extending my hand, a devilish grin on my face. “By all means, brother. Lead the way.”
IT WASN'T FIVE MINUTES after Phantom and I made it back to the dorm when my phone started vibrating in my blazer. While Phantom was busy grabbing a bite to eat in the kitchen, I wandered off to the bathroom and shut the door, frowning when my eyes met the display.
It was Rhett.
Shit.The three of us usually met up for lunch. He was probably wondering where we were.
“Hey,” I answered.
“I need your assistance with something.”
My brows furrowed. He sounded serious. “Oh yeah? With what?”
“Brian Barlowe.”
“Who the hell is Brian Barlowe?” I asked, scrunching my face.
“God damnit, Isaac, really? You knowexactlywho I’m talking about. The fucking DJ.”
My brows lifted with heated curiosity.Oh… That fucker.I ran my tongue across my teeth, unable to stop myself from nibbling on the bait. “I’m listening.”
“Come to the abandoned warehouse on 12th. Leave now. And don’t tell Phantom.”
That was all the info relayed to me before the line went dead. I considered it a moment, knowing Phantom would be livid with me if I bailed, but at the same time I was awfully curious and severely tempted to trot on over to 12thStreet to see what fun Rhett had stumbled upon.
Fuck it.
“I gotta head out,” I shouted as I stalked down the hall, taking in Phantom nibbling on a sandwich as he scrolled through his phone.
“What?” He turned to me. “Why?”
“Rhett called. He said he needed my help.”
“With what?” Phantom sordidly asked as he put his phone down on the counter, surveying me with a slight head tilt.
“He didn’t say. It sounded important, though.”
“God damnit.” Phantom gushed out an annoyed breath and shook his head. “Fine. Give me five minutes and we can—” A loud ding from his phone silenced his words. As his eyes rolled back down to the screen, his brows shot up to his thick hairline. “Just go without me. It seems I have some business of my own I need to handle.”
“What kinda business?”
“The kind that’ll make me three grand richer,” he replied with a devilish smirk.
He didn’t elaborate any further and I didn’t ask, which was fine and fucking dandy with me. After walking back to our shared room to snatch up the keys to my barely driven SUV off the top of my dresser, I was out the door.
I TURNED ON 12thSTREET about twenty minutes later, spotting the abandoned warehouse and Rhett’s SUV parked around back. Less than two minutes later, I was parked and planting my feet on the ground.
Staring up at the old, disheveled, burned building, I blinked, having realized I recognized the place. Father owned it.
It used to be a meat packaging warehouse. About three years ago, something went wrong with one of the machines. Long story short, there was an explosion. It stole the lives of ten workers and left over a quarter of the building standing on charred pegs with almost half of a blown roof. The previous owners suffered a vicious lawsuit, so instead of rebuilding the business, Father graciously took it out of their hands. His plan was to bulldoze the place and have the property fully restored and manufactured into an apartment complex for low-income families. But it appears the old man still hadn’t gotten around to it yet. To be honest, I forgot this place even existed. It wasn’t crazy to assume that Father might’ve forgotten about it, too.
Hell, I was surprised Rhett still remembered this place.
Eager to see what all the fuss was about, I stepped towards the back entrance, finding the door ajar. When I stepped inside, the smell of blood, urine, shit, and the taste of dust, grime, and something else I couldn’t verbally describe infiltrated my senses. I veered a few steps back, gagging and spitting the muck out of my mouth.
“Good,” Rhett’s deep voice growled from afar. “You made it.”
“Fuck, that’s awful,” I spat, my face souring as I moved deeper into the building.
