Page 74 of XO Karma

“Yeah.” His tone is pensive. “The shadiest.”

“Lovely,” I grumble, picking at my nails.

“Why, what’s up?”

“Not much,” I say, forcing confidence. “Just need to pay him a little visit and remind him he can’t treat people like garbage and get away with it.”

“Lily,” Aster warns. “This is not a guy you want to mess around with. He’s ruthless and so are all the men who work for him. Why do you think I haven’t taken him out myself yet?”

“So, what?” Anger thrums through me. “Just because you haven’t managed to control or dispose of him, he should be able to do whatever the hell he wants?”

“No. But this is a delicate situation.”

“Stop patronizing me,” I snap, fully aware I’m exhausted to the bone and possibly taking it out on him.

“I’m not.” His tone softens, and while I believe him, I’m still frustrated by the situation. “I swear.”

“He can’t just mess with people’s lives and get away with it.” I shake my head, crawling off the bed to kneel on the carpet, and tug out my supplies box. “It ends tonight.”

Aster releases a heavy sigh. “You can’t let this go?”

“No.” I unlock it, throw off the lid, and sift through the contents.

“Then I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t need your help.” My hand lands on a brunette wig, and I pull it out. “I’ve got this.” Don’t I? “Besides, you said he didn’t take too well to your questioning when you interviewed him after Karolyn died. I don’t want him to be on edge.”

“I can blend in,” he assures me. “You need to wear a disguise too.”

I bark a laugh. “You’ve never blended in a day in your life.” My eyes fall to the wig in my palm. “And I’m already on it.”

“Lily. You’re not ready for this.” His tone is pleading, but I can’t find it in me to listen. “He’s dangerous. You need a plan.”

“Well, then I guess I better get to work,” I say, then end the call. Damn me and my stupid pride.

My attention turns to the request once more.

Karma’s choice?

Game on.

25

LILY

I’ve slept, showered, and am situated on a stool at Vetrel’s Bar halfway across town. The smell of expensive cigars infiltrates my senses, and I hope it doesn’t leave a permanent stench on my leather jacket. It’s my favorite. It was Violet’s favorite.

I opted to approach Frederick Vetrel on his own turf. Hoping to get him alone and “encourage” him to stop screwing over his tenants. Given my intel, Freddy here has a type. Brunette. Southern. Ditzy. And most of all, easy. All it takes is a miniskirt, a wig, a pair of pink bedazzled cowboy boots, and I’m his dream girl. Oh, and a shirt with a neckline deeper than the Mariana Trench.

The burner from Aster rings in my bag, and I roll my eyes, digging it out and bringing it to my ear.

“Horny hotline, how may I be of service to you tonight?” I say in a sweet Southern accent.

“Fuck, Lily,” Aster chokes. “What persona did you choose? Dolly Parton?”

“I don’t recall the queen of Nashville running a late-night phone service for the criminally curious.” An unabashed grin spreads across my face. “Do you?”

“Funny.” A heavy breath comes through the line. “I don’t like this.”