Miles Zhou was an enigma. I watched from my third-floor window as a monstrous SUV pulled up to the curb. Holy tattoos. Ink covered every inch of his arms and part of his hands. It stretched up his neck and wrapped around his throat. My mind wandered across the mental image of him, wondering where else that ink went. As scary as he should have been, the guy had the personality of a hyperactive dolphin. It drove Ophelia nuts, and I loved it. Besides, she needed to loosen up.
