New York Detectives (Book 3)

Chapter 30

Nobody said anything before or during my story from the moment I was going to meet with Sherlock to the moment I got shot. I told them how I saw Nathan and how I was going to get my revenge on the one who shot me.

"D, you know we stand behind you on this, but why get revenge on the woman?" Cynthia asked and I looked at her, raising my brow. As I went to speak, Mrs Viner cut in.

"She's not worth it, Honey. She did bad, I know. But you're better than that." I laughed at that and shook my head, leaning back into my chair and crossing my arms.

"Am I? Am I really?" I asked and I sighed. "My urges are coming back. And each minute that passes by, I get weaker and weaker. I'm holding, no... I'm grasping onto the edge."

"NO!" Cynthia yelled, slamming her hands onto the table. Silverware clashed into the plates and I merely raised my gaze to her. She had stood up and she kept her hands on the table.

She stared at me, pleading with her eyes for me to be joking. I stared back with an emotionless expression, not even blinking.

"No, you can't just waltz in here and tell us this story then say your drug habit is coming back. That you're "grasping onto the edge". No, you don't get to do that." she said, pointing at me and using her hands to help add emphasis to several words.

"I already have." I stated and she slapped me.

"Cynthia!" Mrs Viner warned and she looked to her. I shook my head and stood up.

"No, I deserved that. I've overstayed my welcome, it's time I take my leave. Thank you for dinner and your hospitality." I walked to the door, grabbing my jacket from the couch.

"Destiny, please! Come back and sit down." Mr Viner pleaded and I cleared my throat.

"No thank you, I said I was going. So that's what I'll do. Have a good night." I said and walked out of the house and walking through the grass and to the sidewalk.

I walked down the street and looked up, seeing a motorcycle for sale and I smiled, seeing a teen boy, no more than 18, working under his truck.

"How much you selling her for?" I asked as I walked across the street. The boy looked up and to the motorcycle.

"It depends." he said and I nodded, looking at it from the sidewalk.

"On what?" I asked and he smirked.

"If you can tell me what it's really worth." he said, tightening something and I chuckled. He had met his match.

"Mind if I take a closer look?" I asked and he slid from under his truck, cleaning off the wrench with a stained rag. He nodded and motioned to the bike.

I walked up the driveway and smiled at it.

"You know, you just met your match, Babe." I said as I crouched and examined the bike closer. I slowly ran my fingertips over the black paint, the metal was cold and smooth to the touch.

"Oh? Think you've got the answer?" he said and I smirked, looking up at him. He blocked the sun from my eyes and I looked back at the Harley and stood up.

"You could sell this baby... Close to a grand. It's a Harley Davidson, she's in great condition, practically brand new. How many times have you ridden it?" I asked and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Only four times." he said as he put the rag on his shoulder.

"Well, I'm interested in buying." I said and he nodded.

"Sweet. And because you're the only one who got this correct, I'll lower it." he said and I looked at him.

"Sorry, Babe. Won't pay anything lower than 500. It's an expensive bike, and if you lower the price... You'll only screw yourself over." I said and nudged his arm.