Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
He would know what to do.
But as my hand went to my pocket, finding it empty, my mind flashed back to the sink counter. Where I’d left my stupid burner phone because Storm had started barking at something, making me rush out to quiet him.
He’d proven too hyped up, so I’d just… grabbed my key and the fanny pack where we kept his training treats and some spare cash. Well, I did. Silvano balked at the idea of a fanny pack, just tossing the treats in his pocket instead.
No phone.
No way to even try to locate the address to any of the Costa Family men.
Why hadn’t I asked for information about their neighborhoods? Or their legitimate business names?
Sure, I knew that Lorenzo and Emilio had brownstones right by one another. But there seemed to be brownstones all over the city. That wasn’t going to help me narrow things down.
There was no way to track him down.
Could I just try to wait it out? Buy a hat and hide out in a nearby park? Try to catch Silvano on his way home?
But what if Neeley and his men, finding an empty apartment, but proof of me all around, hang around the building too? Or start searching the neighborhood?
I couldn’t just hide in an alley and hope for the best.
I had to be proactive.
I reached toward my waist, seeing Storm immediately sit, and start to lift his paw, eager for a treat.
“Here, buddy,” I said, still breathless, tossing a small handful down as I reached for the cash.
Turning my body to block anyone from seeing me, I started to count it.
Obviously, not having any of my own, I didn’t put the cash in there. Silvano insisted on stuffing some in there every few days, saying I needed it in case I wanted to get food, coffee, or to take a cab home because my ribs were aching.
This was not food/coffee/cab money, though.
The man had stuffed several hundred in the fanny pack.
Four, in fact.
Four hundred.
I could get a new burner, then use it to try to find a Costa address. Then just hunker down somewhere dog-friendly until Silvano could get to me.
Decision made, I stuffed the cash back into my fanny pack, zipped it up, and started to step out of the alley.
Only to see Neeley and three of his men moving down the street.
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
I was trapped in the empty alley, nothing to hide behind or under.
Pulling on Storm’s leash, I did the only thing I could do.
I bolted.
The only advantage I had was a relative familiarity to the area, letting me cut between another alley, going up a block, even as I heard Neeley shouting out orders to his men.
What was I going to do?
No one was going to save me.
Not from a group of armed men.
Not even New Yorkers were that brave.
Panic squeezed my heart and lungs as I flew up another block.
Then there, at the corner, I saw a woman climbing out of a cab.
I didn’t think.
I flew toward it, throwing myself in, then frantically pulling Storm in.
“Drive,” I demanded, trying to duck down.
Thankfully, New York cabbies were accustomed to crazy.
He just punched the taximeter and pulled away from the curb.
“Where am I heading?”
Suddenly, this massive city felt too small, too easy to be found in.
Illogical?
Yes.
But I was running on adrenaline and a bone-deep sort of fear as I pivoted around, looking for Neeley, for his men, or their car.
Not seeing them as we pulled into a row of other cabs, making their way in many different directions, I said the first thing that came to mind.
“New Jersey.”
The driver looked back, brow raised. “You sure about that?”
No.
God, no.
But Neeley would expect me to stay in the city, right? Turn over every rock until he found me?
There was no reason to assume he would search New Jersey. Not so quickly anyway. Not before I could formulate another plan.
“Yes.”
“Gonna be eighty, hundred bucks.”
“That’s fine,” I insisted, reaching into my fanny pack to show him some cash.
“Alright,” he said, nodding.
“Um, how far is that?” I asked, still ducked down in the seat, holding Storm’s leash tight, so he had no choice but to stay low as well.
“Twenty minutes or so to Newark,” he said.
Newark.
I didn’t know much of… anything about New Jersey, but I felt like I remembered someone saying Newark wasn’t the best of areas.
Not that it mattered.
I wasn’t planning on moving there.
I just needed somewhere to regroup, to figure out my next move.
“That good?” he asked in that brusque, impatient tone I was getting accustomed to most people in the city speaking with. Not unfriendly. Just not exactly conversational either.
“Yeah. That’s perfect, thanks,” I said, trying to calm myself down.
I slowly sat up straighter, letting Storm do the same.
“You just having me dump you on the street?” the cabbie asked a while later, making my head whip away from the window where I’d been watching a street of graffiti-tagged buildings pass me by.