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126

ALEXANDER

The shifty-eyed chauffeur was the first person I’d seen who seemed to know something about Kayla Storms' disappearance as he fiddled with the worn rim of his uniform hat.

“Lorenzo, was it?” I rasped, letting my eyes follow the dull gold of his uniform name tag before I snapped my gaze back up to catch him nodding the blonde of his buzz-cut head disjointedly, still unable to meet my eyes.

What the fuck was wrong with New Yorkers? Everyone was losing their fucking dignity! Pissing their pants at every little inconvenience.

God-fucking- dammit! I felt my eyes tighten to small green heads as I watched the rakish-looking man adjust his bony ass on the seat for the hundredth time, a spring of rage bubbling inside me.

I hated using the ‘Do you know who I am?’ card, but the gaunt driver was not giving me a lot of fucking options!

I glanced at my watch with a measure of impatience, realizing I’d been sitting in the same damned booth for over three hours, discussing the freaking New Y
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