A Fistful of Trouble
A Veronica Dahl Quickie
Rando — As soon as she walked in, she felt the tension.
The air in the bar was thick with it, like cigarette smoke clinging to velvet curtains. Veronica Dahl adjusted her trench coat, her cigarette dangling precariously from her lips.
The click of her heels against the marble floor was steady, deliberate.
She was there for a reason, and she hated reasons. They always led to trouble.
Veronica had no intention of leaving without blood; or answers.
She spotted Roxanne Kane perched at the bar like a viper coiled on a high wire. Her platinum blonde hair was a neon sign screaming danger.
Her red lips curled into a smirk that could cut a man in half.
Roxie wasn’t just trouble; she was the kind that could drag you down by the ankles and all the while.
“Dahl,” Roxie spoke as Veronica approached. Her voice was like whiskey poured over broken glass. “Didn’t think you had the guts to show up.”
Veronica took a drag from her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke that seemed to wrap the two women in their own private battlefield.
“I’ve got guts. What I don’t have is patience. I want that necklace around your neck, Roxie? The one you lifted off…
