𝐌𝐢 𝐃𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐚

𝟎𝟑

Talon is not only a cock-block. He is a fucking idiot who can't tell his right from his left. I question myself everyday on how he became my right hand man and best friend. Hell, I'm questioning myself right now.

"Talon," I breathe, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I will use the steering wheel as a murder weapon if you don't turn my fucking car around."

He glances at me while gulping loudly.

"But you said turn left at the end of the last street," he argues, turning the car around.

I run my hand through the strands of my dark hair. It doesn't help calm me as I still feel pissed off and unsatisfied. My dick has softened, no longer pressing against the zipper of my pants. It was giving me uneasiness for half of the ride. Thought I was going to have blue balls until I got home.

"Anyway," Talon's voice drones back into my ears. "We're just supposed to enclose a drug deal. Twenty pounds and nothing less."

My slim but muscled frame leans back into my leather seats. I twirl the metal band that's clasped onto my necklace. Drugs...something he's never cared about before. What could he possibly do with twenty pounds of it? I must've zoned out for Talon to take one hand off the wheel and punch me.

"What?" I mutter, irritated.

"Think he'll make us sell?"

"No," I scoff. "That's below us. Plus, why would he go through all the trouble of obtaining it, if he's going to sell it?"

"Maybe someone's paying him more than the original price that we're paying," Talon suggests.

"But why?" I retort, my hand still playing with the band on my necklace. "If they can pay more, then they can afford the original price."

Talon nods here and there, even inputting his own opinions as we try to break down the entire job. A bunch of why's and who's start to arise and leave us as confused as before. We barely question that bastard, but when he does unusual shit like this- well that's different. He needs to be questioned, especially when it could bite us in the ass later.

"Ask him when we're done?" Talon suggests.

"He wouldn't give us a straight up answer. Only spew some shit about how everything is for a reason."

"True," Talon agrees, turning a corner that leads to the driveway of a huge building. The windows are glass but tinted while the doors are made of something else. Fiberglass maybe, or steel. I'll know for sure once I get up close.

We park behind a line of cars and get out with the keys still in the car. They should have enough sense not to do anything to my car. For their sakes. I stuff my hands in my jacket pocket and look around with disinterest. Looks like your regular, run down building. It's almost cliché.