Page 141 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

But the pain made me str

ong. Kept the goal in sight.

I peeked around to see the Jeep. His shoulders blocked me from seeing her, but I could hear her breathy laughter. The wet noises of their kisses.

Finally, he stepped back and got in on the driver’s side.

I didn’t rush to follow them. I had a small tracking device on his Jeep now. I hadn’t figured out how to do it until his recent accident.

The idiot drove everywhere in the city. Who the fuck drove in Manhattan?

I hated the car. But he made me drive. To follow him.

Now I could keep tabs on him without tailing him.

I opened the app on my phone to track their movements. I expected him to go back to her place. No one knew where he lived. Even I rarely got to see the inner sanctum.

But I’d been in there enough. Had found ways to leave my mark, like leaving the small cameras I’d designed.

The hours were long when the screams of metal were my constant companion. I dreamed about the crash. The blood. The screams and the smoke.

Dragging him out of the car as my face melted.

Falling over him in the explosion.

Alcohol swimming in our veins, burning me from the inside out.

I’d trusted him.

I’d protected him.

I hated him.

The blip on the small map headed deeper into Manhattan instead of Brooklyn.

He was taking her home.

And the hate burned hotter inside me.

Twenty-Eight

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

“It looks like a place where bodies are disposed of.”

Nash slanted me a look. “Bodies?”

“We passed warehouses that look like they might actually be bomb shelters. Possibly worse. Crack den, anyone?”

A low rumbling laugh escaped him. A rare occurrence except for tonight. The little dive of a diner he’d brought me to was perfect if I didn’t think too hard about the layers of ancient grease.

Being on the road so much had definitely lowered my squick factor about eating establishments. I looked at adventurous choices as an exercise in keeping my immune system working on high. Especially with Jamie’s garbage disposal of a stomach.

“I’ll have to bring Jamie to that place.”

“Is she partial to greasy spoons?”

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