There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

It only takes me a minute to break into the car, and three more to bring the
engine to life.
I pay the attendant with cash on the way out of the lot. He doesn’t even look
up, mumbling, “Have a good night,” as I drive through.
I could have taken my Tesla, but California has too many toll roads with
cameras.
I drive to La Crescenta, to the edge of town bordering the mountains.
The Black Dog pub is situated in the shabbiest neighborhood I’ve driven
through on my journey, with tiny salt-box houses situated on bald patches of
grass between chain-link fences. I’m sure these little shacks still sell in the
high six-figures, because this is California, where a one-bed one-bath can
easily run a million dollars. This winter notwithstanding, it’s still the most
temperate climate on the globe. People will endure any level of traffic or
taxation to live here.
I wait in the parking lot for Randall to arrive. I’m an hour early, wanting to
be there first so I can see which car he drives, and so I can ensure that he’s
alone.
Randall must have had the same idea. He pulls in a half-hour early himself,
driving a beat-up Ford truck with paint so worn it looks like mange.
Mara told me that her mother and Randall eventually divorced, partly because
their fights had turned so violent the neighbors called the cops every
weekend, with Randall spending the night in jail at least twice. He was
running out of money, which meant Tori Eldritch was no longer interested.
Looks like he’s yet to make his fortune again. I found him through tax returns
for the construction company for which he currently works. The address on
record was the empty office space. I still don’t know where Randall lives.
Now that he’s here, I make my way inside and pick up a beer at the bar.
Selecting a booth in the darkest and most distant corner of the pub, I text
Randall:
I’m here whenever you are.