Page 61 of The Devil's Obsession (East Coast Devils 3)

“Let’s go,” she whines. “I gotta be at school in an hour, and because I’m not allowed to take public transportation, I’m going to be stuck in the worst rush-hour traffic. My driver is too much of a chickenshit to go above the speed limit, too.”

Dangling the silver card above her head, she coaxes me to my feet. I follow her blindly, still recoiling from her bombshell.

Donnacha Quinn is so ruthless that he killed his own father?

Just before Aisling taps the card against the screen, she points a glittery fingernail at me and drops her tone. “Now, listen. This card has been especially programmed for you. It won’t work on any door that leads to and from the building, which is why it won’t also need your fingerprint and retina scan. It gives you access to three more floors, each now with extra security.” Her eyebrows shoot up into her dark hairline. “The boys in the lobby have been flapping all morning about it. Oh, and remember”—she stabs the middle of my breastbone—“I do judo, yeah?”

I’m barely listening to her, let alone thinking of an escape plan. I give her the nod she’s waiting for, and we step into the elevator.

“First stop, the gym,” she announces, pressing one of the hundreds of buttons on the panel.

A few moments later, the doors open to reveal a wide, white space. Treadmills, rowing machines, and weight racks all line up against the back glass wall like soldiers waiting to be called to battle. Two guards pace up and down the mats like they are on patrol.

“I’ve seen public gyms smaller than this,” I murmur.

“Yeah.” Aisling scoffs, looking down at her nails. “Wouldn’t catch me dead in here, though, unless I’m making a phone call. It’s the only place I can get a signal using my own iPhone, not one of those coded thingies Don always wants me to use.” I whip around so fast to face her that she startles. Her eyes grow wide, and she retreats back into the elevator.

“Your phone works?”

“Let’s pretend I didn’t say that. Come on.”

As we descend, I file her offhanded comment in a special folder in my mind, labeled “escape plan.”

The elevator slows. “And now here’s my favorite floor.” She grins, rubbing her hands together. “Ta-da!”

I follow her jazz hands and step out into a library. A stark contrast to the all-white worlds above us. Old books run along the length of each wall, and one of those ladder things that slide across rails at the top waits patiently to help you explore. Oak cladding, gold trims. Paneled windows that frame the leafy views of Central Park. In the corner, a guard sits in an armchair, reading a hardback.

Aisling inhales deeply as though she’s trying to commit the smell of dust and old paper to memory. She sinks into a red velvet armchair that seems to mold around her curves perfectly. “Heaven on earth, in my opinion. I study here, read here, nap here. And you?”

“Me?”

“What do you read?”

A flush creeps up my neck. “Um…” I scan a few shelves for something I recognize, then realize that it’s fruitless. “Harry Potter,” I decide on, albeit weakly. Before Aisling’s brows crease even further, I add, “But I prefer movies.”

“Mmm.”

“Uh, what else, then?” I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs and back into the elevator, refusing to meet Aisling’s suspicious gaze.

She’s quiet as she gets in next to me, and we both stare at the tufted velvet walls on the descent.

Floors tick by rapidly, numbers growing smaller and smaller by the half-second. “What’s on all of these?”

“Don’s New York-based men live here, including a few trainees, depending on what stage of their training they’re in. The training pit is like, over five floors.”

“Training pit?”

“Mm.” She sticks out her hand, tapping on each finger as she lists the floors. “Fighting gym, gun range…and then the creepy floor,” she finishes with a visible shiver.

“The creepy floor?” I laugh. “Sounds legit.”

Her face turns serious. “It is. It’s the final stage of the henchman initiation. You stay there for one night, and if you survive, then you’re in.”

I pause for thought. “What, gangsters can’t be afraid of the dark?”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You don’t stay there alone, Romy. You go in with another trainee. In total darkness, both fighting for one spot. When the lights come on at dawn, whoever is alive wins. Obviously.”

A sickly feeling works its way down my digestive tract and into my stomach. One thing I’d been told about the Quinns in the three days before I got here was that they keep the army within the family. “But I heard the henchmen only ever hire their own,” I croak.

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