The Escalade rolled onto the block like a shark in shallow water. Two-bit was right; the atmosphere had shifted. On the corner, a group of guys in heavy hoodies and low-slung jeans stopped their conversation, their eyes tracking the blacked-out Cadillac with cold, predatory curiosity. One of them spat on the sidewalk, his hand resting conspicuously near his waistband.
"Make it quick, Hart," Two-bit muttered, his eyes glued to the side mirrors. "The air is thick out here."
I stepped out, my boots hitting the cracked pavement. I ignored the stares from the crew on the corner and walked up the narrow concrete path to a weathered brick house. I hammered on the door, the sound echoing through the quiet street.
When the locks turned and the door swung open, I braced myself for a sobbing Chloe. Instead, I was met with a literal wall of heat and curves.
