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What made her think it was him?
I shot her back a text, but I was already making my way to my bike, and driving in the direction of her apartment, ready to act on whatever information she sent over while I drove.
I didn’t think anything of it when the text didn’t come.
She was at work.
I’d been to The Bog often enough to know that shit got busy sometimes. Busy enough that she barely had time to catch her breath, let alone shoot off a text.
So I just sat there, watching the goings on around the apartment complex.
A couple was having some sort of argument over how much money he’d spent on online porn. He came back with a lame argument about how much she spent on her nails.
“The difference is I’m not fantasizing about fucking my nail tech, you asshole!” was the last of the argument I heard before they took the rest of their fight inside.
A woman came outside with her cat on a leash.
I actually did a double-take, sure it must have been some sort of dog. But, nope. It was a fucking tabby cat on a harness. And she was taking it for a walk.
Fucking weird, man, I decided, shaking my head.
It was right then, though, that I saw someone climbing out of a black car.
A tall, strong, dark-haired figure that I didn’t see the face of at first, but something had me climbing off my bike, and pulling off my helmet.
Then his head turned just a fraction.
And sure the fuck enough, it was him.
Erion Kadare.
Was that who Nyx meant?
I guess it… fit.
If he was hard up for money, if he needed something to get him started.
A couple hundred grand was some nice seed money. And despite being away for a while, he would have had some connections to get rid of that kind of shit.
Maybe he saw her stashing it.
Maybe he just came across it.
Either way, he and I had to have some words.
“You gonna fucking say something, or just admire me from a distance?” Erion asked, not turning, so there was no way he could have seen me.
Sensed me, maybe.
It was a valuable skill to develop.
And, I imagined, a necessary one when you were locked up.
“Erion Kadare,” I said, moving in front of him, watching as his gaze moved over me.
“I’d say you didn’t look familiar, but not a lot of fucks are walking around with scars like that,” he said. “What do you want, Slash?”
“You the one who put his hands on my woman?” I asked, tone deadly, making his brows lift.
