Page 24

Morgan

Why are you alone?

Me

I don’t need backup.

Morgan

Don’t die tonight.

Me

Never. I’m trying to fuck you until the sun rises.

Morgan

You better.

Me

I got you. Wear something sexy.

Morgan

Like this???

A picture of Morgan in black lace thong lingerie appeared on my cell phone. She was laid on her bed and one of her nipples was playing peekaboo through the fabric.

Me

Yes.

Morgan

I’ll be waiting.

The rumble of an approaching motorcycle broke the sexting spree. I straightened in my seat, watching as a sleek black Kawasaki bike cruised into the parking lot. The rider was a young, tall, Hispanic man with broad shoulders and a confident posture. He pulled into an empty space near the side entrance of the building. Behind him, with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, was Marisol Lopez.

Me

I see my mark.

Me

I’ll be there soon.

Morgan

Be careful.

I shut my cell screen and shoved my phone in my pocket.

Even from this distance, I recognized Marisol. She swung her leg over the bike to dismount. She was laughing at something the guy said. She almost looked like a human.

The guy was Juan, according to Natasha’s intel. He removed his helmet, revealing a sharp jawline and the kind of face that probably never struggled to find female company. He was too young to remember Menudo, but he could’ve easily made the group with those looks.

Juan reached for Marisol, his hand settling possessively on the small of her back. She leaned into him, her body language screaming for sex. They were touching continuously. Her fingers traced his arm. His hands slipped to her ass.