Midnight Toxicity

4.

The industrial district sucked balls, although you would think differently during the day. Sure, cops patrolled, but at night, if you called for help, the response time lacked urgency. I would know from the stabbing I witnessed last summer when Skimpy Ray bled all over my Gucci sandals and never apologized.

Ian lived in a two-story converted residential warehouse. He enclosed the structure with barbed wire fencing, teasing me once, saying there was one way in and no way out.

If only I had taken his words to heart.

Jack reported after checking his messages that Ian and Jared, his douche-nozzle partner in crime, were throwing a party. As we pulled through the gate, I counted no less than ten vehicles. Sweet, exactly the distraction I needed to forget how sideways my day swiveled. I planned the diamond heist for over a week, excited to unload the spoils. For a while, I pushed Andy Golding to the back of my mind, but he never went away completely. Hopefully, Ian will give me a few precious moments of his time before I drown myself in vodka and eat my weight in nachos, knowing I'll soon have enough cash to leave this wicked city behind.

"There better be nachos," I murmured in a pout as Jack, and I stepped out of his car.

"I'll make you some," he laughed, slinging an arm over my shoulder. "Ah damn, can you find a ride home? I see my next mistake coming this way."

"Right." I rolled my eyes, watching the girls, who always sniffed out the best parties, eyeing him up as we approached. "Will you grab your brother before you get your dick wet? Please?" I tacked on with a sugary smile.

He snorted but saluted in agreement. I clung to my purse as we strolled through the sliding bay doors, passing people I knew from school or the ever-changing social circles, and if they said hello, I responded but otherwise kept to myself. With my back against the metal stairwell leading to the loft Ian maintained as his private space, I impatiently waited for Jack.

Jared sat on a nearby sofa with a group of girls hanging onto his every word, and I prayed he didn't notice me before Ian arrived. He was cute and all, but he also had a weird stalker vibe going on. I wasn't positive if it was my slutty rep or just a simple crush, he had on me that drove him to act like a complete tool, but whatever his game, I dodged his advances, if possible. Denying Jared made me happy, and it pissed him off to no end. Unfortunately, while I did my finest impression of a wallflower, his eyes locked with mine and he quickly ditched his fan club to annoy the shit out of me.

"What's up, baby?" he drunkenly leered, blocking my view with a forty clutched in one hand. "Damn, that's some dress. I hoped you'd stop by."

"Did you?" I drawled, shifting to see the room better.

Over thirty people mingled in the wide-open space, drinking, smoking, and making good use of the pool table. A heated competition drew a crowd by the air hockey table, and a handful danced in a makeshift circle as music pumped through massive speakers hung on the walls.

Jared struck a pose for my benefit, which was not much in his bombed condition. He was fit, but as Ian's right-hand man, he had to be. The two had been thick as thieves growing up, but their personalities were completely opposite. Jared was the outgoing, friendly front so Ian's broody quietness and fist-first — questions later, instincts were able to flourish. Ian dubbed his little crew The Untamed when they grew traction. They were not gang-affiliated but ran drugs and completed odd jobs for the Conry's, an Irish mob I avoided like the plague. Small-time, but confident enough to run with the big dogs, they gathered a crew no one messed with.

Except me.

Because fuck them and their boy's only club.

"Your little thots are waiting," I laughed when a few bitches flipped me off when I winked their way.