“We gotta get back to Manhattan,” I said.
I knew my way around, sure. But it’s also where my people were. I had to get some fucking backup. Or, if nothing else I had to stash Steph with someone who could protect her and take off on my own.
Then deal with this once and for all.
“We could get a cab,” she suggested, even as we got back toward one of the main roads.
Steph threw her hand up in the air, but as the driver slowed near us and caught sight of me, he gunned it and took off.
“Shit. No, we’re not gonna get a cab with me looking like this.”
“Ferry?” she suggested, nodding toward the Naval Yard.
“Too late. Nothing’s going out now.”
“Subway then.”
Would people stare at me? Clutch their bags? Keep their distance? Yeah. But they’d mind their business too. You had to love that about New Yorkers.
“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding toward the subway steps at the next cross street.
“Venezio!” Steph yelped.
Then there he was.
Moving between us and the subway steps.
Not only that.
But barreling down toward us.
With something long and sharp in his hand.
We didn’t have to say anything.
We turned in unison and ran.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Stephanie
My feet screamed with each step we took, weaving up and down streets, all the while the guy seemed to be gaining on us.
I wasn’t sure Venezio had gotten as good a view of the guy as I had. But his eyes had been manic, bulging, and desperate.
And desperate men were really dangerous.
My mind flashed back to that alley, to the sound of footsteps.
I had no choice but to disobey Venezio’s direct order, turn, and run.
I wouldn’t claim to know anything about fleeing for my life, but I’d suffered through plenty of action movies with that same ex who loved mobster stuff. So I remembered how during a chase with an armed person at your heels, weaving back and forth seemed to be the preferred method of avoiding a bullet.
It seemed kind of silly to me, but as I weaved just in time for a bullet to lodge in the wall beside where I’d been, I started to see the logic of it.
From there, I honestly just moved on pure instinct. The second I spotted that building under construction, I figured it might give me a weapon or a place to hide.
Locking myself in the cinderblock room felt like my only option as my legs grew wobbly and my feet slowed me down, allowing him to gain on me.
