Tree Of Souls (Transfusion Saga #6) - Stephanie Hudson Page 0,25

that was the total opposite to his. His fearful eyes scanned left and right making me add,

“Okay, let me put it this way, just how many cars do you hope to jack after I have broken your arm in three places…huh?” I asked adding even more pressure at the end to make my point and making him scream out louder this time.

“AHHH, Fuck! Fuck, Jesus Christ! Okay, okay, shit yeah it’s over on Washington Avenue, just a couple streets down!”

“And this fine establishment, what does it look like?” I asked next and this time, he didn’t hold back.

“Two double doors, blue, windows above…fuck oww, okay, just ease up, it looks like a shithole but it’s a front,” he said and like they say in the movies, he was singing like a canary.

“That’s good. Right, now here is what’s gonna happen. I am going to let you go, and I want you to remember that I have your gun, so no funny shit, Micky,” I warned making him nod fast, obviously desperate for me to let him go and relieve the pain I knew my hold on him had inflicted. So, I picked up his gun with my free hand and pointed it at him making him back up the second I let go.

Then I opened the car door which shot up into the sky just like on a Lambo, giving it the appearance as if it had wings. After this I unfolded myself from the car and kept the gun on him, which was when he started to get braver, putting more space between us as he told me,

“Bitch, the joke is on you! Fucking wacked piece of shit…and my name isn’t fucking Micky!” he said as he started running off, trying to get away from me as quickly as he could, cradling his abused wrist to his chest.

“I know, asshole,” I muttered just as another car pulled up and from the looks of the family man saloon, it was safe to say that this was the real Micky. Mr family man got out of the car dressed like he had just thrown on whatever was to hand first, as the milky stain on his shoulder told me that it was more than likely he had a newborn at home. The stick family stickers on the car’s window also told me he had three other children and a wife at home that was mostly likely wondering what her husband was doing leaving in the middle of the night. But then he had a kind, honest face with tired eyes that told me he needed at least five more hours of sleep at night. This also told me that the favour he owed Wendy must have been a big one.

“Wow, so Wendy wasn’t kidding…hey, nice to meet you, I’m…”

“Micky, yeah… I know,” I said but then he spotted the gun and lifted his hands and looked freaked.

“Shit, whoa…okay, not sure what you are…” I quickly cut him off and said,

“Oh this, ah don’t worry, I just pulled it off some punk who tried to steal my car, that was also my first indication that I was in the right place…although, I have to confess, I have no clue whether this thing is even loaded or not. The last gun I fired ended up being…well, should we say, under slightly unusual circumstances and let’s leave it at that.” He gave me a wary look, obviously wondering why his now ‘not so good friend Wendy’ had missed out the part where I was clearly bat shit crazy. Which I wasn’t, I was just stepping firmly into the pissed off, woman scorned stage of a breakup.

“Look, she didn’t explain exactly all the details and seeing as you have just turned up in that car, then I am not sure I want to know?” This was definitely said as a question, making me tell him,

“Oh, trust me Micky… you really, really don’t want to know.”

“Right, well then I will just quickly give you the basics as a favour to Wendy and then I was never here, if you know what I mean.”

“I sure do, the real Micky…I sure as shit do,” I answered cryptically.

Okay, so one look at what I was about to do, and I most definitely wished I had taken the time to change my outfit. As, let’s just say that a tight pencil skirt, skintight shirt and little blue tie was not exactly the bad ass image I was hoping to go