Page 63 of Darkest Deeds

She’s quiet for a moment, then squints as if trying to uncover some diabolical motive. “Do you even live in New Orleans?”

“I live everywhere, Ava. Staying in one place for too long is detrimental to my life span.”

“And you think that’s the kind of life I want?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Because living in a shithouse and fucking random men for money is the American dream?”

She swallows hard, but her eyes never leave my face. “That was a low blow.”

She’s right, but there are too many conflicting emotions battling inside me to dwell on it. “So, we went through all this to get you into Seven and you found nothing?”

Ava glances out the window, tucking her hands in between her knees. “No. Everything was locked up tight, and I didn’t want to risk hanging around.”

I don’t ask any more questions. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes on the road and away from her wrists as they twist, her knuckles turning stark white.

We ride in silence for the next thirty minutes. By the time we reach Hollywood, I can’t take it anymore. “Are you hungry?”

“No. I seem to have lost my appetite along with my conscience.”

“Fine,” I growl, crossing two lanes of traffic to take the nearest exit. “When you find them, let me know, I’ll be inside feeding the first one and not giving two shits about the other.”