Her arms wrap tightly around herself and she watches my hand like a hawk as it slides into my pocket and I pull out a small, gilded card.
“The next time your group acts, call me.”
“What?” Her attention splits between the card I hold out to her and my eyes. “There isn’t going to be any more. We’re done, okay? It’s all over so just… just do what you gotta do, okay? Don’ttortureme.”
“Take it,” I instruct, hardening my voice just a fraction. “Men like your leader are never done.”
The inflection in my voice makes her jump and she snatches the card from me, then stares at it in disbelief. “I don’t understand. I… I shot you and you’re giving me your card?”
“Call me,” I instruct as I walk away from her. “As soon as the next hit is decided, you call me.”
“What if I don’t?” Zira asks as she sniffles. “What if I run as soon as you leave me here?”
“You won’t.” I reach the door and pull it open.
“How do you know?”
“Because,” I say as I step outside, then I turn to face her still crumpled against the wall. “You owe me. So call me.”
7
ZIRA
“Peter?” After wrestling with the key in my door, I stumble into my apartment and immediately trip over a pair of Peter’s shoes left just behind the door. “Peter!”
Landing hard on my knees after tripping over, I stay down for a long few seconds. This is the perfect end to a really shitty day. Back down on the ground where I belong with throbbing knees to distract me from the pain in my chest.
Bradley’s alive.
The relief at knowing I haven’t killed someone is almost as sickening as the guilt when I thought I had, because somehow, the situation’s even worse. What will Harris do if he finds out that man is alive? What will Bradley do now that he knows who I am?
I’m far too tired to think.
Climbing to my feet, I kick Peter’s shoes back onto the rack with one foot and toss my keys onto the table near the door. “Peter, are you here?”
Craving comfort, I wander into the living room, but it’s as cold and as dark as the hallway. The kitchen’s empty and so is his bedroom. Failing to find any sign of my brother as I wander our small apartment, I eventually trudge into my bedroom and shrug off my coat. It hits the floor behind me and stays there as I peel off my sweat-soaked blouse, toss that on the floor, and then collapse onto my bed.
I don’t move.
How was today worse than the robbery a week ago? Staring into Bradley’s eyes like he was some kind of demon back from the dead made me feel hollow inside. If it wasn’t for Jenni talking to him, I probably would have believed him to be a ghost until I was dragged off to the hospital.
But he’s not a demon. Not a ghost. Not dead.
Just alive and pissed and for some weird reason, not calling the cops. I suck in a deep breath and something crinkles beneath my stomach. Making the breath deeper, the crinkle sound rises again, so I roll to one side and discover a folded-up piece of paper left on my sheets. Unfurling it, I skim the words and immediately bolt upright.
Peter’s gone out drinking with Harris?
Has he learned nothing? After everything I did to clear his eye-watering debt with that monster of a man, he’s back out in the streets likely drinking away what little money I have left until he starts borrowing it, and then we’re right back where we started.
Kicking off my shoes, I fish my phone out of my pants pocket and dial his number. Pressing it to my ear, I lean back on my bed and shimmy out of my pants with the least amount of effort possible while the line rings out without end.
I need to talk to him. I want him to comfort me and tell me everything I did was worth it to save his life and this new threat from Mr. back-from-the-dead is something we can deal with, but Peter doesn’t answer. Slumping back down after my legs are free, I dial again.
No answer.
On the third attempt, the call goes to voicemail within two rings.
“Bastard.” Holding my arms aloft, I gaze up at my phone and fire off a quick series of messages demanding Peter answer his phone, that it’s an emergency and I need to talk to him. While waiting for him to reply, the silence of my apartment envelops me and a cold chill sweeps across my body, sending me scrambling under the blankets for warmth and security. Once there, the change in temperature makes me shiver and I can’t stop. It’s as if the first shiver gave all the nervous energy inside me permission to just take over, and I tremble like a leaf, completely out of my control.
