“You’re no longer my president.”
“I’ll throw you a bone.”
“Make sure there’s some meat on it.” I bared my teeth.
“I won’t give you her address, but I can tell you where she works.”
Sheworked? I would’ve fallen flat on my ass if I wasn’t seated.
“Hit me with it.”
“Misfits and Shadows.”
“Please tell me it’s not a sex dungeon,” I grumbled, already typing out the name on my laptop.
Thorne roared out a laugh. “Who knew you could crack a joke, Lockwood? No. It’s a tattoo shop.”
“Will she be working today?”
“I’m her father, not her secretary.”
“Thanks for the clarification. The pencil skirt threw me off.”
He laughed again. “Go get her, son.”
“I intend to, sir.”
It was pissing rain by the time I landed in Los Angeles. I couldn’t remember the last time it had rained in this godforsaken hellhole. But of course, for me, it did.
A taxi was waiting outside the small airport. I slipped inside, giving the man behind the wheel the Misfits and Shadows address.
Hallie seemed to have found her path, her independence, and a way back to her family. I was happy for her, but also worried. Worried I had nothing to offer her anymore. She was done.
She’d pulled through. She didn’t need me anymore.
The taxi pulled up at the Sunset Boulevard joint. I got out, feeling like an idiot without an umbrella. It was still pissing wet, the rain falling from fat gray clouds like needles.
I jogged my way to the front door, pushing it open and shaking raindrops off myself like a dog. A girl with an array of piercings and tattoos at the counter stared at me blankly.
“Do you have an appointment?”
Glancing around me, I noticed the place was jam-packed.
“No.” I approached her, dumping my paws onto the counter between us. “I’m not here to get a tattoo.”
“Oh.” She yawned. “No soliciting, bro.”
“I’m here for Hallie Thorne.”
“And you are?” She cocked her head sideways.
Her nightmare.
“Her…friend.” Overstatement of the fucking century.
“Your name?”
“Ransom.”