Page 76 of The Woman in the Warehouse

What were they plotting?

How could they live with themselves after brutally murdering men they used to work alongside? Then cutting up their bodies in the tub with a fucking bone saw?

Each time that asshole moved outside with his cigarette, I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d been involved with the murders and disposal of the bodies. And who his next target might be.

It wouldn’t be long, I was sure, before someone made a trip back to Staten Island to further torture Matej. Unless they were just going to let him dehydrate to death now.

Why had they let him live?

When he was the biggest threat to them? The only one who knew who they were and what they’d done?

Did they want something from him?

In my experience, men usually only got that feral over a few things. A bruised ego, a woman, or money.

Out of the three, the third seemed the most likely. Though the first probably had a lot to do with it as well.

If Jan wanted to take over, it made sense to take out the whole original crew. But also to want the stash of money that Matej, as a crime lord, would have stored away somewhere.

Clearly, these guys were wanting for cash.

Stealing from me.

Squatting in a house.

Jan wouldn’t be able to keep the loyalty of those men for long if he couldn’t provide for them, entice them into doing whatever he needed done.

But they hadn’t sold the guns yet.

Which made me think the guns weren’t about taking over the arms trade in the area and more about protection and intimidation as Jan carried out the next stages of his plan.

Whatever the hell that was.

“Ugh,” I grumbled, dropping down on the uncomfortable couch, staring up at a crack along the ceiling, wondering if it was too early to go see Fury and take her for her last walk of the night yet.

Deciding it was better than doing a whole lot of nothing at the studio but try to interrupt thoughts about Anthony with ones about the fuckers who stole from me and murdered a bunch of people, I grabbed the key and made my way back to Spanish Harlem.

I walked past a deal being made by Fury’s previous owners—if you can call them that—and into the warehouse where I was greeted like I’d been gone for days instead of a few short hours.

“I know we just took a walk, but I’m bored,” I told her after some belly rubs and one too many treats because I was feeling guiltier by the hour about not having her living full-time with me yet.

“What do you think about coming to live in a fancy condo that will make you the envy of all the dogs in the neighborhood?” I asked her as she sat and waited for her leash to be clipped on.

“You’ll have to learn to be a very nice girl to the half dozen fluff balls that live in the building too,” I warned her. “They might look like them, but they’re not toys that you can pull the stuffing out of,” I said as we started out of the warehouse.

“I promise I will get you out of the warehouse and into a proper home in, like, a week or so,” I told her.

Even as I said it, though, there was a twisting sensation in my gut at the idea.

Because being back in my condo meant that I would no longer be playing house with Anthony. Sharing our meals, sharing a bed…

I shook my head at the train of my thoughts as I reached toward my back pocket for my phone to check and see if Anthony had texted yet.

Only to find I didn’t have it.

Had it slipped out in the SUV?

Or in the warehouse somehow?

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