Page 2 of Chaos & Corruption

He’s got a point.

“Fuck off.”

“Hey, now, watch the language.”

At the sound of the foreign voice, I pause mid-climb and lift my head to stare at the man on top of the landing. Dressed head to toe in black, wearing a pair of dark aviators and donning a leather vest full of patches, he looks absolutely menacing. I’m not sure how he got into the building, everyone who enters needs to punch the code into the front panel on the door. He can’t be visiting anyone because no one is due back until tomorrow and he’s way too old to be a resident.

“Uh . . . Webber . . . I gotta go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” my roommate mutters. “Just make sure the apartment is clean. I don’t want to bring any girls back to a pigsty tomorrow night. It’s bad for my image.”

I don’t respond, mainly because the man looming over me removes his glasses and fixes me with a deadly glare.

Fuck.

I disconnect the call and shove my phone into the pocket of my sweats. Straightening my shoulders, I match his glare with one of my own. As much as I try to steer clear from the Society, I’ve made it a priority to keep my eyes and ears open and some of the members have ties with outlaw motorcycle clubs. For all I know this guy can be one of their henchmen.

“Can I help you?”

He crosses his arms against his broad chest and bites the side of his cheek.

“You live here?”

“What’s it to you?”

He quirks an eyebrow but says nothing, making it clear the only way I’m getting past him is if I answer his fucking question.

“Yeah,” I reply, pointing over his shoulder. “I’m in apartment 6 C.” I narrow my eyes. “And you are?”

He completely ignores my question again and my jaw clenches tight. I told you I keep to myself, but make no mistake about it, I have no problem laying a motherfucker out. I don’t give a shit what those patches on his vest stand for or who he works for. He’s got ten seconds to start talking or the next ‘suicide’ reported around here will be his.

“What’s your name?” he questions.

“I think I’ve answered enough of your questions, why don’t you start answering mine.”

“Ferocious.”

“Excuse me?”

“I dig it,” he says and uncrosses his arms.

What the fuck is he talking about?

“The name is Riggs,” he says, holding out his hand.

Cautious, I keep my eyes narrowed and shake his hand.

“Alex.”

“You live here by yourself?”

If the guy was going to kill me, he’d already have done it by now. Hell, he’d be well on his way to getting rid of my body and covering up his tracks.

“I room with two guys on my team.”

“Your team…You’re an athlete? Don’t answer that,” he says, lifting a hand to his chin. “You’re tall. Buff too. Broad shoulders. Definitely not a lacrosse player.”

“Football.”

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