CHAPTER 10 #3
The fact that I didn’t snort out loud at that question was a true testament to my self-control. “Definitely not,” I said.
Although, I do control all the city cops.
He was even more stupid than I’d thought, because that vague answer seemed to satisfy him. His shoulders loosened a fraction. “Okay.”
I leaned back against the brick across from him, trying to look unthreatening. “You look like you’re having one of those days.”
He barked out a laugh that held no humor. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Bad day at work?” I asked.
His shoulders slumped. “Bad day at everything,” he slurred. “Fucked up another interview. My girl’s gonna kill me. I promised her I’d get a job this week . . . and now it’s all fucked up. I just need a fucking break.”
I nodded like I was empathizing with him and reached into my pocket. “Breaks come in different forms.”
His eyes locked on the movement instantly and hunger sharpened his features, burning away any caution he’d been feeling. “What do you have?” he asked.
“Some really good stuff,” I said vaguely as I pulled out the small baggie and held it up so he could see the white powder inside.
He was like a starving dog spotting food as he stared at it.
“Want to try?” I asked innocently.
He hesitated, glancing down the street, then back at me. “I don’t have much.”
I named a price that was generous enough not to feel fake.
Ryan didn’t try to talk me down. Instead, he fumbled into his pocket and pulled out a folded bill, smoothing it nervously between his fingers. When he held it out, I held in a growl. I’d bet my Lambo that it was one of the bills I’d given Eden as a tip . . . and that Eden hadn’t given it to him.
Ryan deserved everything he had coming.
I took it without comment, folded it once, and tucked it into my jacket before handing him the bag.
It was all I could do not to grin as I watched him immediately start to fumble with it. He poured a line on the back of his hand with shaking fingers and snorted it quick and messy, like he was afraid I’d change my mind.
His head snapped back, his eyes rolling for a second before they refocused. A slow, stupid smile spread across his face as the high sank in. “Fuck,” he breathed. “That’s . . . that’s good.”
I smiled back. “Yes, it is.”
His legs suddenly buckled, and I caught him under the arms and propped him up against the wall.
“Easy,” I murmured.
I reached for the baggie and poured another line onto the back of his hand. He stared at it with glassy eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t,” he slurred.
“Take it,” I said. “Take it and forget. Forget the interview. Forget your girl. Forget everything.”
He hesitated for one more second before he bent his head and snorted it deep. His body jerked once and then his eyes rolled back and he passed out, his head lolling to the side.
I didn’t have to hide my grin now.
Zachary pulled the car up to the curb, and I hooked one of Ryan’s arms over my shoulder and half dragged, half carried him to the back door. Zachary got out of the car and opened the back door, one hand steadying the frame so I could maneuver the limp body inside.
Ryan’s head flopped against the leather seat. His mouth hung open, and drool was already collecting at the corner.
Disgusting.
I was going to have to get this car detailed immediately.
Zachary slid back behind the wheel. “Apartment?”
“Yeah,” I said, getting in and shutting the door.
The drive was quiet. Ryan’s breathing had slowed to shallow, erratic rasps. I kept an eye on him, making sure he didn’t choke on his own tongue . . . at least not yet.
We pulled up to her building ten minutes later, and Zachary parked in the alley behind the building—out of sight from the street.
I opened the back door and hauled Ryan out.
He was completely limp now, and his head rolled against my shoulder.
I slung him over one arm like a sack of laundry and carried him up the back stairwell.
Zachary followed silently, watching for anyone to come by.
Unlocking Eden’s door with the key I’d copied, I carried Ryan inside, wincing at how crappy it was, just like I did every time I watched her on the cameras.
This was her life.
And he was rotting at the center of it.
I laid him on the couch exactly how I wanted him—sprawled, head tipped back, mouth open. I arranged the empty baggie on the coffee table beside him, open, and made sure residue was still clinging to the plastic. A few stray grains scattered across the wood like confetti.
Zachary watched from the doorway. “It looks good,” he commented.
“Thank you,” I said proudly as I straightened Ryan’s shirt so it looked like he’d collapsed after one last hit. Then I stepped back and surveyed the scene.
A man passed out on the couch after a bad day. Drugs on the table. No signs of struggle. No signs of anyone else.
Perfect.
“This is it,” I told Zachary quietly.
One last chance.
If Eden walked away after this, it would be her decision. If she didn’t . . .
My gaze dropped to Ryan’s slack face.
Then I would make the decision for both of them.