“Sasha,” she implores. “Please.”
I can’t decide. My heart thuds. Her voice again, pleading, decides it. I release him, and he falls to his knees, gasping for breath.
She steps around him, looking up at me.
When the police grab me, I don’t resist. Frank gets up, rubs his neck, and makes a flicking hand gesture I know well. It’s the one he makes to order someone killed.
I don’t give a shit about his threats. I let the cops cuff my hands behind my back and go down to my knees as ordered. I don’t go the rest of the way down, as they bark at me to do, because it would mean taking my eyes off her.
Frank reaches for her arm, but she sidesteps. “I know you’re angry, Dad, but I told you you were hurting me. Please don’t grab me like that again.” Her voice is soft, and she’s so small. The cops immediately desert me to get around her.
The conversation is short and quiet. She promises to come home by nine. Frank backs up. A cop escorts her back to the apartment building. I finally lie face down on the grass as ordered.
Trick’s on the cops in an instant. He spins a version of events that paints me as the hero who saved a girl from being manhandled and dragged away against her will right in front of the Coynston cops.
“You heard what she said. We all did,” Trick adds. “All Mr. Stroviak did was restrain Mr. Palermo so he’d release his daughter, whohe was hurting.”
They uncuff me reluctantly, all the while dressing me down and warning me there’d better not be a repeat performance.
When they move off, C holds out a hand. I take it and let him help me regain my feet. I look at the building.
“I’ll see if there’s a cop on her door,” Trick says, walking away.
C glances after him. “She protected you against Frank, in front of Frank. That’s a risky play.”
I already know that. I rub a hand over my buzzed head thoughtfully and turn to look over at the parking lot. Frank and his men are sitting in their cars, waiting.
I tip my chin down, speaking to the ground, the way we do when we’re going to say something we don’t want known. “Trick said he needed a word. That’s how we got here,” I say. “Otherwise she’d still be where I put her.”
I glance at C, whose brow lifts.
“He wanted in. Now he’s in.” Moments tick by. I draw in a breath and blow it out, letting my mind settle and get back to doing what it does best. “This location’s no good. The numbers are no good.”
C glances around and nods.
“Let’s work on it,” I say.
* * *
Rachel
Zoe’s old apartment is vacant. I’d come to it looking for fresh—albeit not properly sized—clothes and such. But there’s nothing left in her place except a couple of pieces of furniture that I imagine are up for sale on Craigslist.
She doesn’t live here. She lives in C’s mansion.
And if I go back with Frank, there’s a chance I’ll never see her again.
I’m sitting on the floor, completely unclear about what I should do next. I was going to claim the torn and repaired dress was a costume, but no one will buy that now. And I’m worried that if Frank gets me back to his place, he’ll insist on a doctor examining me and then they’ll know I’m no longer a virgin. Would Berto call the wedding off? And what will I say when they interrogate me about it?
I grimace. I don’t want to deal with any of it.
Originally, I was following Frank’s orders to protect Zoe, but Zoe has C to protect her now. I don’t need to factor that in.
In the past, I was able to keep up with Frank’s investigations while living at his place. But is it worth it anymore? Couldn’t I just take off and take a chance that Frank meant it when he said he really doesn’t care that much about getting revenge on my mom for leaving? It’s been five years. He’s moved on to other women and other pursuits.
A clicking in the door’s lock makes me sit up straight. Maybe I won’t have a choice about going with Frank.
The door opens, and Trick steps inside.
