Page 19 of The Phantom's Vice

“Seriously?” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose as my ever-present headache throbs. “Would it really be such a bad thing if the Phantom… you know? It’s not like any of them are stand-up citizens…”

Jim cocks a brow. “I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you are.”

“Of course not.” I wave him off. “Like I said, I didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“No. You said it was a badmorning.What’s going on, Brett?”

Damn you titty-twisting shitty fucking suck-at-lying mouth.

“Brett?”

Thinking quick, I manage to come up with, “Well, Iwastrying to spare you from the details of my crime scene I found in my underwear this morning, but since you won’t leave it alone…”

Jim scrunches up his nose as if he was delivered via stork rather than said vagina. “Gross, Brett. All you had to say was it was that time of the month.” He shakes his head, a shudder running through him as he grumbles something like, “Fucking women.”

I frown, shoving down that ball of rage trying to claw its way out of my throat.Fucking. Jim.“Are you on this weekend, too?” I ask, deciding a change of topic is needed.

“Sure am. You’ll get to see this handsome face in a tux for once.” He grins, shooting me a wink. “I already ordered my mask online—I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”

I blink. “You mean… when we’re not watching the target, right?”

Now it’s Jim’s turn to wave me off. “Right. Of course. But it’s like you said—this tip is most likely bullshit. Like the Phantom is going to take out a high-profile senator in a room full of people, right?” He chuckles, shooting me a conspiratorial wink.

My lips thin in an unconvincing smile, and I turn to grab my coffee cup. I want to tell Jim he’s wrong—that the tip wasn’t fake at all. That the Phantom left me a calling card this morning, telling me he wants to play agame.

That somewhere deep inside, I know who left that tip.

The Phantom himself.

After snagging Venom from day-boarding, I stop at my usual Chinese restaurant, snagging the bag of lo mein waiting for me on the counter. I walk to my car with a bit more pep in my step, the deliciousness inside the greasy bag wafting to my nose, tempting me.

I stay strong until I get back to my apartment, all but sprinting up the stairs and into my bedroom. After today’s shit show, I need the dopamine that can only come from a bag of greasy food and Venom snuggles.

Placing the bag onto my bedside table, I strip off my uniform and change into my favorite pair of pajamas. I giggle as I stare down at the dozens of happy little dumplings staring up at me, several of their faces faded to nothing from years of use.

Venom mews from the bed, his tiny little arm reaching out to the bag in an attempt to get inside. “Hey!” I chastise, wagging my finger at him even as he ignores me. I roll my eyes with a chuckle,sliding under the covers and reaching across Venom to grab my dinner.

My mouth waters just from the smell, and I tear into the little white container like it’s my first meal all week, offering small pieces of chicken to Venom between mouthfuls. When I get to the bottom, I sigh, leaning back and rubbing my belly contentedly.

“Now, for the best part.” I grin, reaching into the bottom of the bag and pulling out the fortune cookie.I swear, they put crack in these things,I muse, pulling apart the thin plastic wrapping.

I snap the pale yellow cookie in half, popping the first into my mouth with a little happy dance. I finger the small piece of paper sticking out of the other half, trying to guess what my fortune will be today.

Hmm. Something about money. Or wealth!

Now that my guess is in, I pull the paper from the cookie, pulling it close to my face so I can read the tiny letters. Only one word is printed, but it has the power to turn all the blood in my veins to ice. Because my “fortune” is not that at all—it’s a message. A greeting.

“Boo.”

CHAPTER NINE

GHOST

The Code: Rule #8

A Mask’s one true loyalty lies with the Sanctum.

There’sa twinge in my upper rib cage as I watch the violent temptress toss and turn in bed, unable to sleep despite the double dose of sleeping medication I saw her take. After, of course, she combed every inch of her apartment. Twice.

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