And with that he turned and approached the dealer. I watched as he pulled out the money. I watched as he made his request.

I watched as the dealer pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I watched as Lloyd was pressed against a wall and read his rights. I listened as he cried out in protest, as he tried to explain . . . but it was too late . . . I was already gone, walking quickly down the alley, away from the scene, already wiping away the makeup that created the illusion of dark circles while whispering to myself, “I bet you care now, asshole.”

I needed to make my escape quietly . . . but it was hard not to giggle. Any jerk with half a brain would have been able to peg that dealer as a narc. But Lloyd didn’t have half a brain. Just a hard-on and a desire to prey on weak women.

Unfortunately for him, I’m not weak.

And, of course, it was only a matter of time before the police found the meth I planted in his pocket, which made his protests even more futile.

It was a minor victory, but it was still kinda sweet.

Some might think what I did was cruel. Some might see it as vigilante justice.

But my motivations were simpler than that and much more mundane.

The truth is, I just needed him out of my way.

I come to a stop several blocks from Travis’s place and wait to cross a street. Taxis and cars and limos fly past me . . . except for one limo, which pulls to a stop right in front of me.

The door opens, but no one comes out. The sun is low in the sky now, and I squint as I try to see into the dark interior of the vehicle . . . but I don’t really need to see anything to know who’s inside. I know even before I hear his voice:

“Warrior.”

Some words carry their own music.

Silently, I slip inside the limo, closing the door behind me, locking out the streets of New York as I take my place by Lander’s side.

“When you said ‘soon,’ I didn’t realize you meant this afternoon,” he says.

“Actually, it’s officially evening now,” I counter. He looks good in his slim-cut suit and skinny tie. His hair is neat, but he’s unshaven, and his stubble gives his polished look a roughness that’s intensely appealing. “Have you been searching all over town for me, Lander?”

“No,” he says simply. “If I had been, I wouldn’t have thought to look here . . . at least not until I got your message a moment ago.”

“Like I said, I had a job interview nearby.”

The limo starts to move toward Travis’s building. “Another bar?”

“No, something different. Better. Let’s get a drink. I’ll tell you all about it.”