Pounce (Ren of NYC Book 1) by Aria Storm

Author:Aria Storm [Storm, Aria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

Six:

The drive home seemed longer than normal. I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge as full-dark crept over New York City. There was scarcely a transition from the resplendent light of day to the pseudo city lighting. Night crept over much of the city for no more than one hour, before the bulk was re-lit in manufactured lamination. The thrice changing environment was discombobulating, even to a life-long big city dweller.

Additionally, I was completely subdued, dead on my feet, by the time I parked my car in the low-rent Brooklyn neighborhood. After parking, I had another two miles of city block coverage to reach my crack shack of an apartment building. By the time I reached my door, I was ready to collapse.

However, once I stepped into my apartment, I was still vigilant-enough to check the entire, tiny, space. I had a small, cramped living room, a tiny kitchenette, a small bathroom with an ancient, clawed foot tub. Finally, I came to my small bedroom, which was over-packed with my discount clothing, suits, an ironing board, and iron. My fear spiked every time I turned a corner, and I checked to ensure that Max had not decided to flex his invasive muscles. Vigilance could be a dual-bladed butter of one’s nerves.

Fear still permeated my body, and my heart thumped rapidly in my chest. My wall shook with the sound of bass booming. The alleged drug stash house next door was far from silent. You’d think that they’d try to stay under the radar, but the habitants, presumably gang soldiers, were constantly blasting music. Then again, who exactly did they worry was going to snitch one the stash house? I might be a sworn attorney, but I was hardly dim-enough to believe I could rat out what could be hundreds of thousands or millions in gang products, without being capped in the back of the head for my trouble. Despite being noisy neighbors, they were more soothing now than ever. At least if shit got real in my apartment, I could run next door and beat on their door, and have them point their fucking guns at Max or his gorilla cop.

I grabbed a change of night clothing, mainly an overly large tee shirt from my last male, and a pair of pink panties with purple checker designs. The Saint Patrick’s Day white tee shirt with a leprechaun holding a tankard of ale in either hand, was ratty and beginning to fade. That spoke to the length of my celibacy. I moved to my closet, and fished out a towel, and then I moved the short distance to my cramped bathroom. The old claw tub was possibly older than my mother or grandmother, but I didn’t exactly have the ability to remodel my shitty apartment. If I could, I’d likely just start with tossing a grenade in this shithole. At least it wasn’t bug or rat infested, much to my surprise. My clothes didn’t show any of the signs of rodent activity in my absence.

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