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I turned over the truck, backed out of the street, and fucking floored it as two bullets clipped my truck bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Saylor
“Are those dog treats?” Keith asked, squinting at the three oversized reusable bags that were jam-packed with treats, toys, bowls, food, a leash, and even a shrink-wrapped dog bed.
I wasn’t much for shopping.
But I’d practically blacked out in the pet store, grabbing shit and piling it into the mini two-decker cart I’d grabbed at the door.
Apparently, shopping was a lot more fun when it didn’t involve shit I needed for myself.
“Are you serious right now?” I asked, pressing the muzzle of the gun a little more firmly against his temple.
“Ey, ey, I’m just asking a question,” he said, holding up his hands.
“I’m the one asking questions,” I reminded him.
Keith was a pain in the ass.
A mid-level hacker who worked with anyone who could give him some cash to support his gaming, energy drink, and frozen pizza roll addiction.
A city of twenty-five-thousand restaurants and he ate pizza rolls almost exclusively.
“Yeah, I know, I know,” he said, nodding his head, making his floppy alpaca haircut jiggle. “You’re one badass chick,” he agreed, making me sigh and lower the gun since it was having exactly no impact on him.
I’d only pulled the gun when he’d ignored me as he tapped away with his fancy split keyboard and rambled on and on to me about ceramic keycaps and ‘creamy’ switches, telling me that was why the typing sounded ‘thunky’ instead of ‘clacky.’
It was like the guy was speaking a different language.
Nerdanese or something.
At least the gun had gotten him to swivel away from his set of three monitors to actually look at me.
And let me look at him.
He looked a little paler than the last time I’d seen him. Which was saying something because the guy could cosplay as Casper on a good day. It was likely thanks to his endless hours stuck inside his stuffy apartment over the bodega where he bought his canned energy drinks and pizza rolls.
It was a postage stamp of a place, but since all he had in the world was a bed without a frame and his hacking and gaming set-up, I guess that didn’t matter.
Aside from his hideously floppy dirty blond hair, he was a good-looking guy with angular features that would likely look a lot better with some sunlight, a salad and a steak, and maybe a few trips to the gym to put some weight on him.
His green eyes watched me from behind black-rimmed glasses.
“You got a dog?”
“I stole a dog,” I said, shrugging.
“What kind of dog? I could see you with an all-black Shepherd. Or one of those spotted Great Danes. Maybe a Doberman…”
“She’s a pit,” I said, shrugging.
“Girl dog, huh?” he asked, giving me a small smile.
“What about it?”
“Difference between dumb and happy and smart and sassy,” he said.
