Read Online My Angels Have Demons (Users #1) by Stacy, Jennifer Buck - Free Book Online
Authors: Stacy, Jennifer Buck
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Carter, I will do what I can to find the leader of this cartel, but you've got to lay low."
Slowly, Carter got to his feet. The blood rushed to his head, and he had to lean against a column to keep from toppling over.
"And where am I supposed to go?" Carter asked, "The only friend I had to turn to just tried to get me killed."
"Don't push your luck here man. I'm not offering you a place to stay. Why don't you just get out of town for awhile? Let things blow over."
"I'm not leaving," Carter said defiantly. No way in hell was he going to leave because Alaric told him to. "What if you need my help?"
"Need...your help? We're not reliving the glory days here man. The time for a team up has passed," Alaric said, "you blew that a long time ago."
"Whatever, dude." Was all Carter could muster in his defense.
He couldn't rationalize his behavior in the past to himself, so how would he convince someone else that his monstrous behavior was anything but just that. The past continued to haunt him, and he couldn't argue that he had not been a total animal during his days as a junkie.
"What are you going to do with your friend here?" Alaric pointed to the unconscious Darnell.
"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it," Carter said.
Alaric raised an eyebrow at that.
"What? I'm not going to kill him or anything."
"See to it that you don't," Alaric said and he turned for Fox and the door.
It was maddening to see Alaric and Fox exit the room walking side by side. His blood boiled. He needed his medication.
#
Chapter 6
Outside the Seattle Police Department; an officer exited the building. A puzzled look came over his pudgy face when he noticed the man at the bottom of the steps, tied up and unconscious. He quickly descended the short flight of stairs, and tore the note pinned to the man's shirt, lifting it close to his face to read it in the dim light. Carter had written a message with all the details as to where the bodies in the warehouse could be found, and that Darnell was an accomplice, along with Eric in the deaths of the men in the black jumpsuits. He left out the little detail that he, Fox, and Alaric had played any part in the killings.
He doubted the police would buy it, but then again, he didn't really care if they did. Eric was a known degenerate with a record a mile long. No one, especially the police, would believe a word that came out of his filthy mouth.
With Eric secure in the hands of the authorities, Carter made a dash for the last place anyone would expect to find him. Other than having the brim of his newly acquired cap pulled low, he strolled through the front door like he owned the place, hoping that no one would notice him. He climbed the stairs uneventfully, ducked under the police tape that clearly labeled the residence as a crime scene, and opened the door.
The inside of his apartment was a catastrophe. His meager belongings were strewn across the floor, the TV was face down with a long crack running through it, a shelf that had held a stack of books was blown to bits, and almost every wall was riddled with bullet holes. He sighed, and picked up a book by the spine that looked intact only to have the pages fall out onto the floor. Fuck it. With no TV and no book to read, he marched straight into the bedroom, grabbed a blanket covered in drywall dust, and pulled it off the mattress like a magician pulled the cloth off a table leaving all the silver wear and dishes in tact. Ignoring the bitter cold and noise that came in from the broken window, Carter flopped onto the sweat stained mattress and fell fast asleep.
*****
He slept like shit. The cold stung his face and his nose wouldn't stop running. Every drop of rain that hit the street outside his broken window echoed through his ears with no barrier to deaden the sound. It was one of the worst nights of his life. Almost as bad as the numerous nights he had spent in withdrawal from the drugs years before. Almost. Nothing could compare
Slowly, Carter got to his feet. The blood rushed to his head, and he had to lean against a column to keep from toppling over.
"And where am I supposed to go?" Carter asked, "The only friend I had to turn to just tried to get me killed."
"Don't push your luck here man. I'm not offering you a place to stay. Why don't you just get out of town for awhile? Let things blow over."
"I'm not leaving," Carter said defiantly. No way in hell was he going to leave because Alaric told him to. "What if you need my help?"
"Need...your help? We're not reliving the glory days here man. The time for a team up has passed," Alaric said, "you blew that a long time ago."
"Whatever, dude." Was all Carter could muster in his defense.
He couldn't rationalize his behavior in the past to himself, so how would he convince someone else that his monstrous behavior was anything but just that. The past continued to haunt him, and he couldn't argue that he had not been a total animal during his days as a junkie.
"What are you going to do with your friend here?" Alaric pointed to the unconscious Darnell.
"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it," Carter said.
Alaric raised an eyebrow at that.
"What? I'm not going to kill him or anything."
"See to it that you don't," Alaric said and he turned for Fox and the door.
It was maddening to see Alaric and Fox exit the room walking side by side. His blood boiled. He needed his medication.
#
Chapter 6
Outside the Seattle Police Department; an officer exited the building. A puzzled look came over his pudgy face when he noticed the man at the bottom of the steps, tied up and unconscious. He quickly descended the short flight of stairs, and tore the note pinned to the man's shirt, lifting it close to his face to read it in the dim light. Carter had written a message with all the details as to where the bodies in the warehouse could be found, and that Darnell was an accomplice, along with Eric in the deaths of the men in the black jumpsuits. He left out the little detail that he, Fox, and Alaric had played any part in the killings.
He doubted the police would buy it, but then again, he didn't really care if they did. Eric was a known degenerate with a record a mile long. No one, especially the police, would believe a word that came out of his filthy mouth.
With Eric secure in the hands of the authorities, Carter made a dash for the last place anyone would expect to find him. Other than having the brim of his newly acquired cap pulled low, he strolled through the front door like he owned the place, hoping that no one would notice him. He climbed the stairs uneventfully, ducked under the police tape that clearly labeled the residence as a crime scene, and opened the door.
The inside of his apartment was a catastrophe. His meager belongings were strewn across the floor, the TV was face down with a long crack running through it, a shelf that had held a stack of books was blown to bits, and almost every wall was riddled with bullet holes. He sighed, and picked up a book by the spine that looked intact only to have the pages fall out onto the floor. Fuck it. With no TV and no book to read, he marched straight into the bedroom, grabbed a blanket covered in drywall dust, and pulled it off the mattress like a magician pulled the cloth off a table leaving all the silver wear and dishes in tact. Ignoring the bitter cold and noise that came in from the broken window, Carter flopped onto the sweat stained mattress and fell fast asleep.
*****
He slept like shit. The cold stung his face and his nose wouldn't stop running. Every drop of rain that hit the street outside his broken window echoed through his ears with no barrier to deaden the sound. It was one of the worst nights of his life. Almost as bad as the numerous nights he had spent in withdrawal from the drugs years before. Almost. Nothing could compare
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