Exhibit A—the dickhead who has my gun pressed to his head because I killed his best friend. I don’t have the goddamn time to deal with small fish when I have Great White’s floating around in my ocean. Too bad for them, I’m a fucking Megalodon. “What did you do to him?!” Max shouts, jerking forward towards the guns. I grab his arm and haul him back against the booth, a breath of air puffing out of his chest from the force. “He’s not dead, so settle down. No need to yell, my ears are sensitive.” Colorful expletives spill from his mouth, but I ignore them and tap the silencer on the underside of his chin hard enough to make him bite his tongue. “As long as you leave Addie and Daya alone for good, daddy dearest will continue to live a long, healthy life. I don’t want to see a goddamn hair out of place on either of their heads, you feel me? I know everything about you, Max, and your two helpers over there too. I know where you eat, sleep, and shit. And I will watch you until some other sorry asshole puts a bullet in your brain. You pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?” His blue eyes narrow into slits, glaring at me heatedly. It’s the equivalent to throwing a bunny at me, but whatever makes the asshole feel like Elmer Fudd. I stop the video of Max's sniveling father and stand, keeping my gun trained on him. Specifically on his dick. Most men would rather die than live without a dick. “We have a deal, Elmer?” His brows plunge at the name, but he doesn’t question it. Having a gun pointed at your family jewels changes your priorities sometimes. “Yes. As long as you let him go.” I flash a wide smile. “He’s already on his way home.” I turn to leave, walking back over to the staircase before his voice stops me once more. “Hey! You never said who you were,” Max calls from behind me, his voice still packed full of unbridled anger. Turning to look over my shoulder, a feral grin curls my lips, and I say with a wink, “You can call me Z.” And then I see myself out, laughing from the look on their paling faces.