James

The damn phone continued to ring, and I started tossing shit around looking for the thing. Finally, I found it under the couch, and I had no idea how it got there.  

    I lifted the couch and grabbed my phone. It was Roman. Why the hell was he calling me at—I glanced at my watch—four in the morning? 

    “It’s a little early for a booty call, don’t you think?” 

    “Gunner cut the crap. Where were you last night?” 

    I frowned. “I’m sorry, but how is that any of your goddamn business, partner?”  

    “Were you in Bolivia?” 

    Instantly, there was a prickle of warning in the back of my skull....