Page 23 of Sacred Vow

“Yeah, go ahead,” he says to the person on the phone and disappears into the bathroom to finish his call.

I scope out what I’m dealing with.

Andrei has men perched outside my front door and downstairs at the main entrance to the building. I don’t have time to wait.

With another quick look out the front window, I find the second man leisurely drinking a coffee while leaning against my car. As though he can sense me watching him, he tilts his gaze up to my window. With a smile, he raises his coffee as though to say hi.

I drop the curtain back in place and check my phone again.

I do not have time for this shit.

I need to get out of my building.

I try texting Marlena. Nothing. She’s probably still asleep.

Even if I get the bus right when I get to the stop, I still might not make it in time. If I’m trying to set off the trigger, I need to be there at the same time Craig used to take me. Which is within the next hour.

I’ll just have to take a rideshare.

Once I have a car scheduled to pick me up on the corner behind my building, I throw on a pair of shoes and grab my purse, slinging it over my chest as I hurry to the bedroom window. I throw it open and warm air rushes inside.

As quietly as I can manage, I crawl out onto the fire escape and close the window behind me. I pause only a moment to be sure the guy outside my apartment hasn’t heard anything before I move toward the stairs. Once I get going, I haul ass jogging down the wooden steps until I’m in the minuscule back yard of the building.

I peek down the gangway to be sure the guy out front isn’t watching the area before running past the storage unit in the back and into the alley. My lungs burn, but I keep running down the street and around the corner to the block behind my apartment. I don’t hear Andrei screaming for me; hopefully that means he’s still on his call.

The app on my phone beeps, alerting me the driver will be there in two minutes. Hopefully, he’ll be faster.

I make my way out of the alley and find the gray Corolla sitting at the curb with the rideshare logo on its front window.

I wave at him and hurry over. He rolls his window down as I approach.

“Izzy Madson?” he asks, checking his phone.

“Yep. That’s me.” I fling open the back door and jump inside, slamming it behind me. I look back out the window, cautiously excited to find no one chasing me.

“Donald’s Donuts?” the driver verifies as he pulls away from the curb.

“Yes.” I look out the rearview window to be sure we’re still not being followed. Only after there’s a mile between me and home do I relax into the back seat and flip through my phone.

Donald’s Donuts is a small donut shop attached to a diner. Craig brought me here a few times the year he died. Always on a Sunday morning and always before the diner was full of churchgoers after the first mass let out across the street.

I hand the driver some cash for a tip and climb out of the back of his Corolla. The smell of donuts is overwhelming. I can almost taste the powdered sugar. My mouth waters as I pull the door open and step inside. Sharp, cold air hits me as soon as I enter, a stark contrast to the humidity outside. There’s a man in a leather jacket sitting in the far corner booth, cradling a mug between both hands, staring at his phone. A young woman works behind the counter, filling the wired baskets with donuts coming out of the back.

It’s a tiny shop, and the smell overpowers the place.

“Can I get you something?” the young girl asks, side-eying the man in the leather coat.

“Sure.” I guess I can’t just stand there hoping something comes back to me. Besides, who knows how long it will take for Andrei to catch up with me.

“I’ll have a chocolate long john and a chocolate milk.” The order falls out of my mouth as though it just knew what to say.

She takes my cash, then gets my order.

I turn around with the tray in hand and check out my options. There’re only four booths in the whole place. I opt for the booth on the left side of the register, away from the man.

“I don’t bite,” he says when I slide into the booth.

I smile. “Just didn’t want to interrupt,” I say.

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