Jackson forced himself to go to work, despite the humiliation and trauma he had endured the previous night.
"Those lowlifes . . ." Jackson muttered through clenched teeth, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. The money they had stolen wasn't small change — it was the rent for his apartment this month. He had to get it back, no matter what.
"Morning, Jackson."
"You're late."
Jackson barely acknowledged the greeting, his mood darker than the storm clouds gathering outside.
"What's with you? Why so grumpy this early in the morning?"
"Shut up and leave me alone," Jackson snapped, storming off toward the locker room. The frustration gnawed at him, and he knew he couldn't afford any distractions. Today, he had to keep his head down and figure out how to reclaim what was his.
