care.”
I grab her hips and pulled her against me, not giving a fuck anymore. I couldn’t stand it a single second longer. I was done with all the bullshit, all the back and forth. I needed to feel her body, and as soon as she pressed herself against my hard dick, her lips parted in surprise. I didn’t give her a chance to react; I just pressed my mouth against hers and kissed her hard, savoring the taste. At first, she didn’t respond, but quickly she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back with an intensity I had never seen from her before.
I was practically tearing out of my pants. I wanted to bend her over right there, fuck her up against the historical fiction section. She pressed herself against me harder, moving her hips softly, practically dry humping my stiff dick. I reached down and cupped her firm ass, squeezing hard, and I felt as much as heard her gasp.
As soon as I was about to slip my hand between her legs, my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. She moved away and laughed softly.
“You’re pretty excited.”
“All your fault.”
My phone kept ringing. “You should get that,” she said.
I looked at her. “Fuck my phone.”
“Really, answer it.”
I clenched my jaw. She was right, it could be important.
“Fuck,” I said, as I moved away from her and pulled it out of my pocket.
I looked at the Caller-ID, but didn’t recognize the number. I flipped open my phone and held it up to my ear.
“What?” I said.
“Colin, it’s Jimmy.”
I blinked. “Jimmy. I didn’t recognize your number.”
I moved away from Bren and spoke softly. I could feel her eyes watching me as I spoke.
“Calling on a burner. We found Fabrizio.”
“Where?”
“Safe house near Girard in Fishtown.”
“I’m close.”
“How long?”
“I can be there in fifteen.”
“Better hurry. Our guy thinks Fabrizio knows he was followed.”
“Text me the address.”
“Okay.”
I hung the phone up and looked at Bren.
“Do you have to go?” she asked.
“Yeah, I do.”
“What about me?”
“I’ll drop you off first. It’s on the way.”
She nodded and frowned. “Did they find him?”
“Might have. Not sure yet.”
She paused. “Be careful.”
I grinned. “Always am.”
Chapter Eleven: Colin
T he address was on a tiny side street in the Fishtown neighborhood. It was a blue-collar place on the border between Center City and north Philly, and was considered one of the oldest places in the whole city. According to some people, the Fishtown accent was one of the last few remaining original dialects in the whole city. The important thing was, though, that people in Fishtown didn’t talk to the police. They were old school that way, used to growing up and living in more dangerous neighborhoods where the rule of law wasn’t always guaranteed. Sure, they might call the cops if they heard gunshots, but mostly because they wanted to scare the assholes away.
I pulled over and checked my gun, not sure why I had been giving myself a little history lesson. I flicked off the safety and made sure the clip was full before climbing out of the car. Silently, I walked the perimeter of the house, but didn’t see anyone. I kept low, in case Fabrizio was watching from a window, my heart beating slowly in my chest. Most of the other houses were quiet, too, which made sense since it was two in the afternoon on a workday. Still, I needed to make sure I was quiet, or else risk getting the cops involved. On top of everything else, that was the last thing I needed.
I jumped the fence into the backyard again and stood next to the back door. The yard itself was pretty empty, and weeds were beginning to win back the corners. It was pretty obvious that nobody had taken care of it in a while. The door didn’t look particularly sturdy, which was good. I took a deep breath and mentally planned out my attack. I had to be quick, but I needed to avoid killing the guy if I could. My gun was only a last resort,
I grab her hips and pulled her against me, not giving a fuck anymore. I couldn’t stand it a single second longer. I was done with all the bullshit, all the back and forth. I needed to feel her body, and as soon as she pressed herself against my hard dick, her lips parted in surprise. I didn’t give her a chance to react; I just pressed my mouth against hers and kissed her hard, savoring the taste. At first, she didn’t respond, but quickly she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back with an intensity I had never seen from her before.
I was practically tearing out of my pants. I wanted to bend her over right there, fuck her up against the historical fiction section. She pressed herself against me harder, moving her hips softly, practically dry humping my stiff dick. I reached down and cupped her firm ass, squeezing hard, and I felt as much as heard her gasp.
As soon as I was about to slip my hand between her legs, my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. She moved away and laughed softly.
“You’re pretty excited.”
“All your fault.”
My phone kept ringing. “You should get that,” she said.
I looked at her. “Fuck my phone.”
“Really, answer it.”
I clenched my jaw. She was right, it could be important.
“Fuck,” I said, as I moved away from her and pulled it out of my pocket.
I looked at the Caller-ID, but didn’t recognize the number. I flipped open my phone and held it up to my ear.
“What?” I said.
“Colin, it’s Jimmy.”
I blinked. “Jimmy. I didn’t recognize your number.”
I moved away from Bren and spoke softly. I could feel her eyes watching me as I spoke.
“Calling on a burner. We found Fabrizio.”
“Where?”
“Safe house near Girard in Fishtown.”
“I’m close.”
“How long?”
“I can be there in fifteen.”
“Better hurry. Our guy thinks Fabrizio knows he was followed.”
“Text me the address.”
“Okay.”
I hung the phone up and looked at Bren.
“Do you have to go?” she asked.
“Yeah, I do.”
“What about me?”
“I’ll drop you off first. It’s on the way.”
She nodded and frowned. “Did they find him?”
“Might have. Not sure yet.”
She paused. “Be careful.”
I grinned. “Always am.”
Chapter Eleven: Colin
T he address was on a tiny side street in the Fishtown neighborhood. It was a blue-collar place on the border between Center City and north Philly, and was considered one of the oldest places in the whole city. According to some people, the Fishtown accent was one of the last few remaining original dialects in the whole city. The important thing was, though, that people in Fishtown didn’t talk to the police. They were old school that way, used to growing up and living in more dangerous neighborhoods where the rule of law wasn’t always guaranteed. Sure, they might call the cops if they heard gunshots, but mostly because they wanted to scare the assholes away.
I pulled over and checked my gun, not sure why I had been giving myself a little history lesson. I flicked off the safety and made sure the clip was full before climbing out of the car. Silently, I walked the perimeter of the house, but didn’t see anyone. I kept low, in case Fabrizio was watching from a window, my heart beating slowly in my chest. Most of the other houses were quiet, too, which made sense since it was two in the afternoon on a workday. Still, I needed to make sure I was quiet, or else risk getting the cops involved. On top of everything else, that was the last thing I needed.
I jumped the fence into the backyard again and stood next to the back door. The yard itself was pretty empty, and weeds were beginning to win back the corners. It was pretty obvious that nobody had taken care of it in a while. The door didn’t look particularly sturdy, which was good. I took a deep breath and mentally planned out my attack. I had to be quick, but I needed to avoid killing the guy if I could. My gun was only a last resort,
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