Under the open eye of the dark night sky, a sky that had seen it all Nick stalked back to where Amy waited.
‘The bitch assed punk didn’t have it, and I could tell he had no clue what the fuck I was looking for.’
The dark wounds of Amy’s eyes glistened like tar pools, he could almost hear the slow grindings, like bone against bone as she struggled to think of a way to talk herself out of the trouble her big mouth had talked her into.
‘Look Nick, I don’t know where it is I swear to God and if Angelique finds out you even know about it my life ain’t worth squat, she’d kill me as soon as take a piss’.
Nick was so deep undercover he’d practically forgotten he’d ever been a cop, almost forgotten the reason he was working in the greasy burger joint.
Moving closer to Amy he could smell the sweat of fear that coated her underfed body. He bought his face closer to hers, close enough he could feel her breath moist and hot like a tainted tropical breeze against his face.
‘Take me to Angelique,’ his words were as rough as cheap cotton, barked out and allowing no refusal.
Angelique stood at the window, her slight form outlined against the ebony sky. Behind him he could feel the beefy presence of Rosco and Tate. He knew he had to wait for her to speak, knew that if he broke the pregnant silence that his advantage would be lost. Slowly she turned on one slim heel, faced him. From the raven blue of her hair, down over the long sable length of her ophidian curves she pulsated with a sense spinning sexuality that caressed him in waves.
‘So Nicky, you finally came,’ her voice a low purr against his skin she moved closer. One long pointed finger reached out, gently touched his cheek.
‘What do you want, as if I didn’t know,’ she sneered, and with no warning the sharp nail flicked into his skin, drew a gasp of pain from him. Coldly she looked at him, brought her finger to her mouth and let him watch as a long pink tongue, pointed like a cat’s reached out, curled against the drop of blood against her nail and teasingly licked it | 
