Page 33 of The Wages of Sin

“Good,” I said, already walking out of the kitchen. I grabbed my keys off the hook by the front door. “Then give it to me.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

“Don’t stonewall me, Jane,” I warned her with a growl as I strode down the hall toward the bank of elevators. “Give me her damn address.”

“I just explained why I can’t do that,” she finally said.

“And do you really need me to explain that I’m no street-level soldier or Costa capo?”

I kept my voice low as I stepped into the elevator. Not because I was worried about anyone overhearing—the car was empty except for me—but because I wanted Jane to hear every single word and understand exactly how deadly serious I was.

“You know who I am, Jane,” I continued. “You know I’m going to get what I want one way or the other. I don’t want to have to torture the information out of you.”

“Shit,” she muttered again, this time not bothering to hide the fear in her voice. “What the hell is it with you and this girl? You must really have it bad for her.”

“Jane, the address,” I snapped.

“Fine,” she relented with a sigh before giving me the address to a place deep in the Bronx.

“Good choice,” I said, ending the call. I slid the phone into my pocket just as the elevator doors opened to the garage.

One minute later, I was out on the street and speeding toward the Madison Avenue Bridge.

Chapter Twelve

KIERA

It had been a week since I’d left my tiny apartment.

After stumbling in after the disaster at Carlo’s, I’d slammed the door and locked it tight. I hadn’t opened it since.

For the first couple of days, it wasn’t an issue. Medical protocol for suspected concussions called for rest for the first forty-eight hours. I would have given anything for a CT scan to better understand what I was dealing with, but going to the hospital was out of the question.

So, instead, I made due by running myself through a few standard neurological tests—checking my vision, balance, and strength as best I could on my own. Once those were complete, I moved on to the cognitive examination.

Fortunately, after the first two days, I was passing everything with flying colors.

Unfortunately, that good news only made room for a brand new pack of fears to rush in.

New York had suddenly become a very dangerous place.

I might have survived Carlo’s initial attack without lasting brain injuries, but he was still out there, pissed off and hungry for revenge. I couldn’t return to work, and my savings were meager. Without a plan, I wouldn’t last long.

The only good news was I already had plenty of experience in how to disappear.

I shut down my burner phone to prevent Jane or anyone else with the number from tracking its movements. Everything I owned fit inside a single duffel bag, so I traveled light. And thankfully, the thousand dollars Dorian had paid me the week before meant I could afford to lay low for another week and still have enough for a bus ticket out of town.

I had to assume Carlo wasn’t a total idiot and was watching all the major train stations and bus depots. So, the only thing I needed now was for things to cool down before I risked showing my face on the street.

At least my apartment was still safe.

Since no one had kicked in my door all week, I figured my address was still a secret. Each day that passed made it less likely they would.

That was the good news.

The bad news was that after a full week of being locked in a 100-square-foot room, I was running out of groceries. At this point, all I had left was half a jar of peanut butter and a small bag of rice. Meaning that in the next couple of days, I would have to risk sneaking down to the corner bodega.

I was standing there, contemplating my empty shelves, when there was a tap on my door.

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