Tragic Desires Read Online Free

potential target. Copy?”
    “Roger that, Lone Wolf. Details?”
    “I just witnessed a drug deal and target is alone .”
    “Copy, Lone Wolf. Stay on target.”
    “Roger that.”
    The rest of the night i s spent tailing Onyx Eyes, but nothing else happens. After the club closes down and we make sure the streets are empty, we head back to the hotel to debrief. No one has anything extraordinary to report, other than my incident.
    “It may be that she’s just a recreational drug user,” Colt says.
    “True, but my fears are that if she is, that puts an even bigger bull seye on her back. Easy pickins’ and all.”
    “Okay, let’s see what we have.”
    I send the pictures I took of her with my phone to Colt’s computer and he puts them up on the screen for everyone to see. “Take a good look and keep her photo with you. I’ll shoot this to you all. If you see her anywhere, tail her. We also need to find out who she is. Dylan, run a search on her. Let’s see what we can find.”
    It’s four in the morning when we finish and head to our rooms. My sleep is disturbed by a dark-haired goddess with eyes as dark as the midnight sky and my dick that’s way too hard for comfort. 

 
     

     
     
    My apartment is only a few blocks from Sixth Street, the place in Austin where all the nightlife is. It’s convenient for me, as I am now quite the barfly. How nice. I never thought things would turn to this, but my desire for alcohol and drugs has to be fed and the clubs have connected me with the right people to do just that. My days are filled with sleeping off the effects of my evening rituals, dealing with a crucifying migraine, or usually both. If the pain subsides enough, that’s when I make my way to the clubs.
    This particular evening, I get out of the shower and look at the face that stares back at me in the mirror. Gone are the sparkly, laughing eyes. My hair that used to be so shiny is on its way to dull and lifeless. My lips are chewed and I wonder how they got that way; I can’t remember doing that to them. The question that keeps firing through my brain is how much longer can I go on like this? This isn’t life; it’s just some sort of sad imitation. Oftentimes I think it would be so much easier to just take too many pills and not wake up in the morning. I’ve had them in my hand too, ready to swallow. But then a voice comes to me and changes my mind. That really isn’t the answer, and I know it.
    I pull on jeans, a black T-shirt, and finally my boots. I detangle my wet hair with my fingers and shake my head. That’s it for styling—honestly, I don’t give a shit how it looks. It’s clean and that’s enough for me. I put on some face cream and some lip gloss, to help heal my gnawed lips. Jewelry’s a thing of the past. It holds no appeal anymore. And I take one final look in the mirror and realize how strung-out I look. I decide maybe a bit of makeup would be helpful after all. I add a touch of blush to my cheeks, some eyeliner, and that’s it. Shoving money, one credit card, ID, and my phone in my pocket, I head out the door.
    By the time I get to Red Skies, the band is playing and the place is crowded. My connection will be here around eleven, so I get a drink and cruise, checking things out. Some dude wants to buy me a drink, but I give him my best stink eye, though I’m not sure I even have an adequate one anymore.
    The edginess that claims me eases when I see who I’m looking for. We make our transaction and as soon as they hit the road, I throw back the Xanax and down it with my drink. Now it’s time for a shot of tequila to speed things up a bit. I need some relief and that’s just the thing to do it. Soon, I feel that sweet calm seeping into my muscles, invading my bones as it inches along. My jangled-up nerves are soothed; scrambled thoughts are realigned. The numbing effect takes over and I’m breathing easier. The muscles in my neck gripping me like claws finally release and I can feel