Sirena tapped her foot impatiently. Last, she’d check, an hour ago, the club across the street had been filled with cops taking statements from victims. That had been around three in the morning.
Sirena turned to her hostage. He wasn’t going anywhere. She’d ordered him to sit and stay…like a dog. If he had to pee, he would have to do it in his pants, on the motel bed. But, judging from the scents assaulting her nostrils, people had done much worse on that motel bed.
Sirena turned back to the window, monitoring the club from across the street. The last cop car had just driven from the scene. “Now,” Sirena looked at Trenton, “where is this flower shop you were telling me about?”
Sirena wore a hoodie with her head down as she followed her companion through the busy streets, bobbing and we
