Page 15 of Chaos Kills

HOT ROD: His tires are slashed.

JUICE: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY CAR?!

HOT ROD: Oops.

Oh shit.

I’m about to tell Juice I’ll come pick him up myself, when Hot Rod’s name shows up big and bold on my screen.

Double shit.

The thought of letting him go to voicemail immediately crosses my mind, but he knows I’m by my phone. No need to tack on extra drama to the mix while he’s already fucked up Juice’s poor ride.

“That was mean,” I greet when I hit the green button to answer his call. “He’s going to kill you for that.”

“There’s a dude walking up to the train car you’re in right now. Tall, lean, all-black tattoos. Who is he?”

My eyebrows knit because that doesn’t describe anyone I know off the top of my head, and how the hell does he know where I am?

Levi.

The Nameless.

“Where are you?” I press, clutching my blanket closer to my body.

“You got three seconds to answer me,” Hot Rod calmly replies. “Or he’s catching a bullet to the back of the head.”

Tall.

Lean.

All-black tattoos.

“Dark hair?” I whisper, swallowing the forming lump in my throat.

“Yeah.”

Ozzy.

I reach for my gun and drag it underneath the covers draped over me. “If you want a gunshot, come in.”

“Who is he?”

“My husband.”

“What?”

“Hold,” I mutter. “Don’t do anything.”

“Who the fuck is this guy, Astor?” Hot Rod demands, and he’s really been hanging out with Levi for too long.

He’s starting to sound like him.

“I’ll explain in a minute. Let me see what he wants.”

“Incoming.”

And right when my friend says the word, a hard knock sounds off the sliding metal door of the compartment, and it rattles my bones. The place is so empty the sound ricochets everywhere, and a shiver jolts through my body.

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