Page 71 of Mommy

Someone must be talking because I can see her lips press together into a line, brows pulling together while she listens.

Tapping a button, I allow the speakers to pick up the conversation and my jaw hardens.

“Are you fucking mental?!”

A man is yelling at her through the open window.

“Excuse me?” Ivy replies, her eyes widening with surprise and shock

“Speeding like you’re the only one on the streets. You dumb fucking whore!”

“Excuse me?” It’s my turn to utter the words. Hatred turns my voice into a growl.

Did he really just say that?

Ivy blinks, shame and annoyance in her pretty features, but she doesn’t reply and the guy leaves. No tears line Ivy’s eyes and she shakes her head, clearing the emotions from her face before restarting the engine.

She’s leaving this behind like it’s no big deal.

But it fucking is.

How dare that motherfucker talk to her like that. How dare he insult her like he’s worth even breathing the same air as she. He is fucking not. And he’s about to find out.

It only takes me a few seconds to scroll back in the camera history to the moments before the sequence I just watched.

Ivy followed the lane. Maybe she was speeding a little, but definitely not a lot. This guy pulled onto the road.

He’s too fucking slow. She would have had to pump the brakes hard to stay in line behind him so obviously she opted for going past him.

He’s not wasting a second to flash his headlights, showing her his middle finger through the windshield.

Around the next corner is a red light, forcing Ivy to slow the car to a stop. I can watch the guy catching up in the mirror, headlights still flashing.

Man, he has a stick up his ass.

As soon as his car stands behind her he exits, walking to her window.

This time I can hear him from the beginning.

“You little bitch! You almost killed me! Are you fucking mental?!”

“You’ll regret that.” My murmured voice is lethal. All the anger I’m not allowing to run rampant through my body is pouring into the sound, turning it into a murderous growl.

I stop the video and rewind to the moment before she sped past him.

There it is.

Swiping up I exit the app and open another one, this one is linked to my work computer. Typing in his license plate I have his full name and address on my screen in under a minute.

I grab my gun from the vanity, pushing it into the back of my jeans as I exit the front door. The sun is setting behind the houses slowly, only the last golden rays illuminating my way.

Taking the bike, I only need a little over half an hour to reach the address my phone spit out.

It’s a nice home, I suppose. Clean front yard, a bit of random kids toys flying around and a huge doormat at the entrance. Through one of the windows I see a woman carrying a small child while talking on the phone.

The car in the driveway isn’t the one I’m looking for, so I don’t pull up to the curb and instead slowly roll past the house.

I’m just about to double check my phone, when I see headlights flash at the other end of the street. The street lamps let me get a good enough glimpse at the car to recognize it as the same black ford fiesta.