Page 8 of Wicked Nightmare

He yanked my hair and turned my head to face him. "Only if I'm the one doing it. Anyone else so much as touches you and I'll skin them alive, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now... You disposed of Dani properly, right?" He asked, releasing my hair and stroking my back.

"Of course I did."

"Good girl. I got some work today, minor shit with a buddy who just got out the slammer, but I'll be home late. Be a good girl and have dinner ready, okay?"

I sighed. I hated his jail friends. They always looked at me weird. "Fine. But if they make me feel gross, I'll kill them."

He chuckled and rolled out of bed. "Deal."

Chapter Three: Cam

Skeeter was a disgusting dried up cunt of a man, but I needed him to achieve what I wanted to do. Make Lakey's birthday the best she's ever had and unfortunately, while I had some hacking skills, I wasn't as good as this tub of lard. I also didn’t have enough time to get it done before her big day by myself.

His beady little eyes and sweat-stained wife-beater hardly inspired confidence, but he was the best in the business. Put in the clink for pissing in public and masturbating on some old lady in a cab, he was utterly repugnant, but I'd come to find out that he was rather adept at finding out information on the web.

Lakey didn't know it yet, but I was compiling a list of our former foster 'families' to present to her. A birthday present for her 25th. Her champagne birthday. Another special birthday, apart from turning 16. I was forced to miss her sweet 16th because I was in juvie for shoving a knife in the soft belly of the pig who had tried to rape her and got out just before her 17th. I hoped this would make up for it. She loved birthdays and I did feel a measurable amount of guilt for missing that special one, but as the universe allows, I have a take two. Champagne birthdays are the birthdays you have when you turn the number of the day you were born. Mine was my 18th, because I turned 18 on January 18th.

So, here I was, sitting at the grimiest bar in the city, waiting for this cock sucker to find a certain John L. Almine and his wife Janine before we moved on down the list.

His fingers drummed an irregular beat on the table while he scanned the information. "Hey, uh, you mind grabbing me some food. I'm hungry."

Rolling my eyes, I motioned for the waiter. "Yeah, um, a muffin and a bottle of water."

Skeeter made a whining noise. "Really, man? First day out and not even a vodka?" He quieted before whispering, "A beer, then?"

I sighed, quickly grabbing the waiter before he left. "Fine. And a beer. Please."

"While I work on the Almines, who else did you want me to look for? What is this for man? I don't wanna get in shit with no more cops man, I'm out of that life. Gonna have a family, some kids, know what I'm sayin'? Start fresh?" His eyes darted around as if looking for cops.

"Shut the fuck up before I gut you." Honestly, I probably would after this anyway, fucking dude was annoying as fuck. "Find the Almines, and then move on to Carmen Jones, Edward Jones the Second and William Jones."

"Jones? Really man? Do you have any fucking idea how long that will take."

Leaning forward, I pressed the tip of my knife to the inside of his thigh. "Did you know all it takes is a knick to your inner thigh for you to bleed out within sixty seconds? Do you think anyone will try to save your life if I were to tell them you murdered children?"

His eyes were wide as saucers as he stared at me, his voice a rasp, "But I didn't murder children..."

"They don't know that." I smirked as his fingers trembled. "Now get working."

The grating sound of his nails dragging on the keyboard was the only sound in the bar as I waited for him to find my prey.

"Beer and a... muffin." The waiter said as he put down the order, sounding bored. "That's $7.50."

Giving him a ten, I waved him off and watched Skeeter. God, this was so boring.

"Cam? I got what you wanted." He finally said, breaking the silence. "The Almines are in Oakland, I've got their address here. They have a foster kid too, if you want her too..."

"Great. And the Jones'?" Oakland wasn't far. About 20 minutes if I broke the speed limit.

"I need more time." He was sweating. So profusely, in fact, it was rolling down his forehead in drips. "I... I... can forward it to you when I get a hit."

"Actually, why don't you come home with me, Skeeter. My girl made dinner." A grin tugged at the corner of my lips as I opened my buzzing phone and read the text from Lakey.

His chubby hand pawed at his face as he blinked, no doubt trying to clear the burning from his salty sweat falling into his eyes. "I, uh... I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same to you."