Consumed by Scarlet Wolfe

Author:Scarlet Wolfe [Wolfe, Scarlet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Victoria

“I mean it, Victoria. Follow the rules in there.”

I tune out Reggie, who’s talking into my micro earpiece, and continue toward the dilapidated apartment.

This residential area of old homes is peppered with two-story apartment buildings that are shady but not ready to be condemned. I take a deep breath and think of Adrian before I tap on the door to one of the ground level dwellings.

Sensing someone peeking through the peephole, I rub my nose, trying to appear desperate for a hit. The door opens, and the man we’ve been trying to nail for months looks me over.

“Hey,” he says before he glances around outside.

“Hi, I’m Angela.”

“Pete.” He steps aside for me to enter, and I pass him. His baggy, torn jeans fall farther down his hips as he stretches his thin arm up to scratch the back of his dirty, blonde hair.

I touch my nose. This time it’s from my reaction to the stench of trash and what smells like backed-up sewage. He’s living like a junkie, not only a dealer.

“Wendy said you’re wanting to join us,” he says, almost more as a question.

“Yeah, I need cash to cover my own shit.” He believes I want to sell cocaine. Wendy is a prostitute, who is pimped out by Pete’s brother. I have a knack at friending the hookers in this city and offering them deals in exchange for information.

Wendy’s life will be in danger over this snitch, but her alternative was a year behind bars. She has teenage siblings to support and decided to take a deal. I’m trying to find a way to get her off the streets.

I sometimes meet those who I don’t view as criminals. They truly were dealt a shitty hand and are only doing what they think they have to for their survival or the survival of those they love.

They’re not capable of envisioning a better way of living, having mentally separated themselves from the rest of society they deem superior.

I take in the sight of the cramped, filthy room as Pete locks the door and glances out the dingy blinds covering two windows.

I think of Adrian’s penthouse, and I’m a world away from that life. There is a worn, brown couch and a folding chair sitting across from it.

A cheap glass table is piled with old fast food bags, containers and beer cans.

I make note of the Kel-Tec .380 pistol shoved between the back of his wife-beater tank and the back of his jeans.

“Strip,” he orders after turning to face me.

“Uh, what?”

“Strip. I want to see you’re not wearing a wire, and then you’re doing a line with me.”

“You want me to strip off my clothes?”

“Yeah, bitch, do it now.” Pete rubs his own nose as his anxiety becomes heightened. The man is in his late twenties, but he looks forty.

“Don’t do it, Victoria,” Reggie says in my ear. “I have a bad feeling about this. Get out of there.”

I hold my hands up. “OK, OK, give me a damn second.” Since my purse has a microphone sewn into it, I carefully lower it from my shoulder and set it at my feet.

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