Just what I need, a hot-headed maggot to test my patience further. I straighten, looking down my nose at him. Alexander is about an inch shorter than me, but his fists clench tight by his sides. I make a point of placing mine in the pockets of my jeans.
‘I said, you should keep your head up,’ I repeat.
Alexander’s nostrils flare as he cranes his neck back to meet my gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, and I realise he’s as high as a kite.
‘This isVersace!’
I could end this bullshit, send my fucking fist into his face right now and demand to know where his boss is. Instead, I let a grin break across my face. ‘It’s not the first stain on your bargain-bin find.’ I arch a brow at the faded ink stain where a security tag would have been. Not only is Alexander high as fuck and an injured ex-division-two basketball player, but he also seems to be broke yet trying to keep up an image.
He shoves me, but instead of knocking me off balance, he’s the one stumbling backward.
‘Bad knee?’ I taunt, hands still in my pockets.
His fingers have barely wrapped around the collar of my shirt before two of my bouncers are ripping him away.
‘What the fuck?’ spits Alexander.
I wave my bouncers off. ‘It’s fine. He’s a …friend.’ They release him immediately, taking a step backward, but staying close.
Alexander, however, looks at me like I just called him a two-headed snake, which still would have beenmore accurate. He sways a little before taking a semi-cautious step forward, apparently still itching for a fight.This fucker really is stupid.
‘We can take this outside, where your little henchmen can’t help,’ he says.
Little?I wonder if his injury extends to his brain.
‘No need.’ I wave to Rose, who rushes over a bottle of Macallan 18. ‘Clear a booth for my friend here?’ I give Alexander a nod. ‘On the house.’
Alexander snatches up the bottle, scowling but then smirking at the label. He shakes it, like he’s testing if it’s half empty. ‘I’ll take this to go,’ he says, satisfied. ‘If this stuffy-ass joint is yours, we’re leaving.’
‘Aww, Alexander,’ the blonde croons. She and her friend have been hanging to the side the whole time. ‘We could stay for one more drink. You could tell us more about the race—’
‘We’re leaving.’ Alexander cuts her a look and she presses her red lips together.
I retrieve the cigarette behind my ear and run my tongue along the filter before bringing it to my lips.
‘You race?’ I ask, causing him to pause. Firing up, I then toy with my lighter, flicking the metal cap open and closed. The click vibrates through my fingers as I spin the spark wheel, letting the flame come to life and die out.
He turns his head back slightly. ‘None of your business.’
I let it go with a shrug. There’s no need to push for information. Not yet.
Alexander gives a pathetic scoff before turning, a girl on each arm, bottle in hand. ‘Let’s get out of here, ladies.’
I watch as he limps through the doors of the bar without looking back.This fucking better work.If this was my onlyopportunity, I’d have taken my chances with dragging him down into the basement and beating the answer out of him.
I take a few puffs, letting the smoke coat my lungs before flicking the cigarette into Alexander’s empty tumbler. To my surprise, a few patrons actually break away from their dire conversations about stocks to turn around and shoot me filthy looks.
Passing through my office, I grab my leather jacket before exiting through the door leading to the back alleyway.
My friend Tyler Ross is waiting where I left him. There’s a full moon tonight, the glow illuminating his white hockey jersey. He trailed Alexander like a hunting dog before calling me, to tell me that maggot had walked through my doors of his own accord.
Tyler receives the text messages too. Every fucking year, it’s the same thing: an unknown number sends the image of a silver mask – a sick reminder of the worst night of my life.
This year, it ends.
‘The GPS tracker is working.’ Tyler’s damp blond hair is sticking to his forehead as he pushes off the brick wall. He tilts his phone to show a small red dot moving through the city.
I zip my jacket up. ‘It’d better be, becausehecould be back in Booker Bay.’
