CHAPTER 12
ON SATURDAY EVENING, I stared out my bedroom window on Riverley’s third floor, waiting for darkness to fall. I wanted to speak to Tyrone d’Angelo, seeing as he was the only person we knew White had fallen out with, and one of my contacts said he worked the night shift in a bar called The Firefly on the outskirts of Richmond. As bars went, it was only one shitty wine menu above a sawdust-on-the-floor joint, certainly not somewhere a dude would take a lady if he wanted a second date.
But at least I wouldn’t look out of place in leather, my fabric of choice. For tonight, I picked an old favourite, a scuffed biker jacket Emmy had given me not long after we met. It looked a little the worse for wear now, but its battle scars told the story of my life.
I teamed the jacket with skin
