Last night Nita Warren had given him some cock-and-bull excuse about not wanting to make it because he wouldn’t wear a condom. He’d tried every excuse and plea he could think of and then when she’d persisted, he’s slapped her around and done it anyway. He didn’t know why she’d cried and argued. Women were all alike. They didn’t know what they wanted. But he did. They wanted someone to take control and show them a good time. He was real good at taking control. And he could care less if they had a good time. It was his own pleasure that mattered most.

A police car turned the corner in front of him, and for one moment, his heart accelerated and jumped into the roof of his mouth. He swallowed it back where it belonged, took a deep breath, and stared at the cruiser’s taillights as it went past.

He didn’t know why he was so jumpy. But he kept remembering that woman from the beach. It was more than a coincidence that she’d seen him make the snatch, and then saw him again at the mall. It had never happened before. He’d never left witnesses…at least, none that were willing to talk.

He shook off his nervousness. It was only snatch and grab. He didn’t know why he was worrying. Cops had bigger fish to fry. He hitched at the bulge behind his zipper and strutted off down the street.

*  *  *

Jackie Warren wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. His sister, Nita, had come home crying last night, claiming that she’d been raped. He’d tried to work up a rage of family loyalty but it had been lost in his need for a fix. Granted he was the man of the family now that his old man was in the joint, but today wasn’t a good day for Jackie. At least, it hadn’t been until he’d made the rounds. He’d heard on the streets that the cops were looking for Thomas Holliday. It had worked up his weak need for justice and revenge all over again, especially since he knew that he could sell his information and replenish his supply in one fell swoop. Ordinarily, one street-wise tough didn’t sell out another. But Jackie Warren held a distinct but little known title. He was what was known as a “source.” He sold information to the cops and, in return, kept his nose in business. Jackie Warren headed for the phone. He had an instantaneous need to unburden his soul.

*  *  *

“Don’t fix dinner tonight,” Cole said, as he started out the door. “We’re invited to Rick and Tina’s.”

“Cole…” His name was a gentle reminder on her lips that he’d told her, not asked. It was also a reminder that he was about to leave without telling her goodbye.