“You have a point there.” Luke frowns, nodding his head.
Rory rubs his face. “So, what do we do?”
“We talk to Savannah about it. It should be her choice,” I decide.
“You’re right,” Luke agrees, exhaling a resigned breath, but his energy does a full one-eighty. “Shall we?” He reaches for the door handle.
“It’s after two in the morning,” I argue.
Rory dips his head and leans into my space. His head is literally by my stomach.
“Excuse you?” I comment aggressively.
Rory points out of my window. “There’s someone up there.”
Luke and I snap our heads to get a look and find that Rory is right. There’s a figure dressed in all black easing itself off Savannah’s balcony and down the fire escape.
When they drop to their feet on the sidewalk, I move to get out of the car, but Rory grabs my arm. “Do you have anything in here?”
I point to the ground. “Of course, I do. Under your seat.”
His hand goes to the floor, searching around. “Ah ha,” he exclaims. He sits back up and passes a gun to both of us, keeping one for himself.
“Wait,” Luke says after he checks the magazine of his custom P320 in his hand, and points to the person we’re watching.
They turn their head back and forth, scanning the area, but in this part of Brooklyn, almost everyone is asleep. The streetlight gives us a glimpse of their face, and we all sit, unable to move, in stunned silence.
“Is that…” Rory trails off.
“What’s she doing?” Luke asks.
“Let’s follow,” I suggest.
We watch as Savannah pulls a black gaiter over her mouth and nose and takes off in the opposite direction from us. We jump out of my car together, conceal our weapons, and set off in a light jog after her, keeping our distance.
Something feels off. This doesn’t seem like a middle-of-the-night jog.
Not once does Savannah turn around to check her surroundings. Anyone could sneak up on her. I try not to let that make my blood boil, but she’s going to learn a lesson or two about taking her safety seriously.
About one hundred feet ahead of us, Savannah finally slows down in front of a house in Murray Hill. It’s a narrow, two-story home wedged between two others just like it. The blue siding looks like it’s seen better days, and the iron railing guarding the stoop is on its last leg.
“Why do I get the feeling that she isn’t doing all of this because she forgot her key?” Rory questions in a quiet voice.
I hold my finger up to my lips, not wanting Savannah to know we’re here.
She circles the tiny house, pulling on each of the windows of the first floor. None of them budges for her.
“Is she?—”
I place my hand over Luke’s mouth, cutting him off.
Savannah pushes back and forth on the pathetic railing. Then she lifts a foot and heaves herself on top.
If she breaks a bone, I swear, I’ll spank her ass raw.
The railing wobbles, but she quickly reaches forward, latching onto the edge of the sloping roof. She hauls herself up onto the shingles just before the railing collapses. The crash is loud, causing a few outside dogs on the street to bark.
Fuck. She’s going to get caught.
