Sixty-Two

Monte didn’t trust Tom as far as he could spit on him. Which was why Monte decided to hang around Breanna’s apartment and wait for the jerk to come to her place.

Dressed in dirty-white coveralls and brown hiker-boots, and a white ball cap pulled low on his forehead, Monte stood by Tyger’s neighbor’s apartment as he pretended to be working on their window. He’d previously gotten permission from the landlord to do this, mainly because the neighbors were on vacation. Pat had never liked Tom, which made it easy for Monte to ask her if he could spy on them. Of course, he had to tolerate the way the older woman ran the palm of her hand up and down Monte’s chest as she stood too close to him, batting her fake eyelashes and puckering her neon-red pouty lips. But thankfully, he wasn’t in her presence for very long. That woman scared him!

His cell vibrated in his pocket, and he quickly withdrew it and glanced at caller ID. It was his fat