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“Where the fuck is Jeremy?” I snarl into the darkness of the trailer that lets loose a smell so pungent I almost don’t go inside.
Almost.
“Wait, what the fu—“
“I’m looking for a cock-sucking gutter rat,” I demand.
Scattering, like roaches in the light, several bodies take off like the cops just pounded in the door, dropping bottles of all varieties and other paraphernalia.
But I don’t give a fuck about the ones that make it out the door before it’s filled with Ian’s tall frame and Rex’s halo of wild hair.
I don’t give a fuck about the guy getting a blowie from someone on the couch that doesn’t stop, even though the door was just smashed in. Or the spilled liquor adding to the stench of the place. Or the mounds of blankets and foil and drapes covering every bit of the windows to block out all light.
I have my sights set on the greasy rat cowering in the corner with a needle stuck in his arm and a thumb to the plunger.
“No—wait,” Jeremy screams when I stalk across the worn out carpet I’m certain was never meant to turn this shade of shit brown and maneuver around more piles of straight up rotting garbage.
Trash that reminds me of the smell of a dumpster just outside of a particular tattoo parlor. With a particular artist that could have lived this life if she’s stuck around this filth. Filth that would have ruined my girl.
My. Girl.
I kick away the needle from Jeremy’s arm because the thought of touching whatever he’s trying to inject himself with makes my skin crawl and my fists rage to stab it in his eye instead.
Jeremy howls when the needle snaps from the body and leaves a prong hanging from his loose arm. His other going limp at a weird angle thanks to the contact of my boot and the force of my kick.
“Get the fuck up.”
“What did you do?” He howls into the trailer, real tears streaming down his dirty, pitted face and leaving clean tracks in their wake.
“I said,” I growl and reach down to wrap his stained shirt around my fist so tight it chokes him. “Get.Up.”
“Okay, okay,” he whimpers on a choking sob, his good hand coming up to wrap around my wrist and claw at my skin as I raise the fucker to his feet anyway. “I’ll get you your money.”
“Money?” Chuckling darkly, I shake my head, the movement loosening the waves on top of my head enough to fall over my eyes. “I’m not here for money, Jeremy.”
“But,” he half chokes when I lift him straight off of his feet and his glassed-out eyes go over my shoulder. “He gave me money!”
“Oh?” I take a second to glance over my shoulder at a shrugging Rex, only for my heated gaze to swing back on the filth in my hands. “Rex,” I call. “Get the rest of them out of here. Get them help.”
“Aye,” Rex affirms and I hear his boots stomp away from the pleading look in Jeremy’s eyes that follow each movement with a level of clarity I didn’t think this druggie could possess.
“But I’ve got the money—I swear I haven’t spent it.”
Growling, I shake the ragdoll of a man in my hand and slam his back up against the wall with a crack loud enough to put a smile on my face when he howls.
“I told you, Jeremy.” I slam him again, only to bring him close enough that the only thing he sees is the rage in me. “I’m not here for money.”
“Then … what …”
“I’m herefor your balls.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cedar
“Itoldyouso,”Aria mutters.
Scoffing with a grin at my best friend, I shake my head and lean over the human canvas in my chair to get to the shading part of the ink.
