What a little bitch.
“What can I say? The run did me good. I went hard this morning. Really pushed myself. I’m still pissed, but I’m completely, totally powerless here—all I can do is take it easy and be patient.”
“I like your thinking.”
She turns to gaze out the window.
“So—what’s the plan for today?” I ask.
“We’ve got a three-hour drive ahead of us.”
“And then what?” I press. “I want to know what happens once we get there.”
“I’m going to check in with a few people, get the lay of the land. Figure out what’s what.”
“Come on, man! Spill.”
Slowly, she shifts her focus back to me, hugging one knee into her chest. “What was that you were saying about being patient?”
I try to ignore how uncomfortable her attention makes me feel.
“Why are you being like this? We’re in this shit together.”
“Incorrect.” She shakes her head. “Think of it like… I’m on a speedboat and you’re getting dragged behind me on a tow tube.” She holds up a hand before I can interrupt. “I’m not pulling you into things you don’t need to be involved in. And don’t give me any of that ‘my car, my baby’ stuff. You don’t get to decide how much I tell you. What youdoget is this—I’m going to work my ass off to get your car back. And that’s pretty damn generous of me.” She pauses. “So don’t push it.”
By the time I follow her out to the Pontiac, I’m starting to get the sense that my post-run buzz will be pretty short-lived today.
AMY HASN’T SAID A WORDsince we checked out of the motel. Three hours later, and we’ve wound our way through Manhattan and all the way to Brooklyn.
“Gimme ten.”
I barely have time to nod before she’s jumping out of the car.
I lean out the window, watching as she walks past a disused warehouse plastered in graffiti, where two guys and a woman are waiting for her with open arms. I can make out their expressions from here, their faces shifting from surprise to smiles. Though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I spot the exact moment when the conversation takes a turn, their grins fading as they lean in. One of the guys gives her a curt nod before rolling up a metal shutter and waiting as Amy peers in. She’s pointing something out to him, barking out instructions as he dips inside.
What the hell is she doing? Is that where my car is?
It’s too much to resist. Before I know it, I’m throwing caution to the wind, leaping out of the car and making a beeline for Firebird, recoiling when she whips around. By the time I get to her, her eyes are wild with anger. She slams a hand down on my chest, holding me back, and I gaze over her shoulder. The hangar is huge, stretching long and wide into another entrance at the far end, daylight spilling in from the back.
Amy’s thumping at my chest, but I can’t feel a thing.
It’s not there.
“Fuck, Conley!” she growls, shoving me back.
“I thought my car was there.”
“Go sit back down!”
I don’t have time to do as she asks. We look up to see the guy on his way back over, flanked by the other two. I grit my teeth, biting back on my disappointment.
The girl gives me a once-over. “Who’s this?”
You could cut the air with a knife, and since I have no idea whether I’m supposed to say hi or introduce myself or what, I let Amy take it from here.
“Nobody you know,” she replies. “And trust me—it’s better that way.”
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s talking like I’m a serial killer, or something.
