Another image flashed of a big bear of a man with scars on his chin.
“Authorities say that the other man in the photo is suspected to be Luka Ivankov also known as The Butcher. He is an infamous hitman who has committed several high-profile murders.”
A distorted image of a woman showed on the next screen.
I knew it was Emily.
“Authorities are requesting that anyone call if they have information about this unidentified woman. The police are slowly trying to piece this situation together and would like anyone to call, no matter how small they think the detail could be.”
The screen shifted to the news people back at the station.
“This entire situation is mind-blowing.” The male broadcaster had a bad haircut and an ugly suit. “Now, Patty, do they think these three people were involved in the bombing or the chaotic shooting that happened outside?”
Patty touched her ear as if just hearing the question, nodded, and spoke, “Unfortunately, Tim, I believe that these people may be along with the many bodies found in the rubble. Police are just trying to discover why these three individuals were in this location before the bombing and gunfight ensued. So far. . .”
I put the television on mute.
She can’t be dead. Not Emily.
I gripped the phone in my hand.
Emily had still not answered or texted me back that she was okay.
The news played the bombing all day. I wouldn’t have even thought Emily could’ve been in the facility until they flashed the Russian mafia boss’s face. His photo had been showing all day. Street cameras had picked up an image of Emily, another big guy, and him walking into the building. Minutes later, it exploded on the third level, dragging down bricks, people, and dust to swarm throughout the Financial District. Traffic had been backed up. Fire trucks and police cars blocked off most of the ways.
News feeds showed dead bodies on the ground.
Jamaicans and Russians? What the fuck is going on today?
I typed into my phone again, knowing it was stupid to do so. Emily hadn’t made it. She was dead. Her photo had flashed on the screen next to the Russian. They’d only had the shot from the street camera, unsure of who she was.
The Feds had already done a press conference with the Mayor declaring this a bittersweet victory in the war on organized crime.
She can’t be dead. Jamaicans were there, Emily. How did you not think something was up?
Sitting the phone on my coffee table, I rose from the couch and paced in front of the tv.
Now, what do I do?
Every part of my life had been dedicated to protecting Emily. I made no move unless her benefit was involved. If not, I laid low and minded my business.
She’s gone.
I stopped in front of the tv and stared at my hands, hoping my palms would give me an answer. I watched my chest rise and fall.
She can’t be dead. My heart is still beating. My lungs are still moving. She can’t be dead. How am I able to breathe without her?
My phone rang. I leaped to the coffee table and grabbed it. Darryl’s name flashed on the screen.
“Yo!” I had no patience. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Is Emily there?”
“No, and where the fuck are you at?”
His voice sounded shaky. “That’s. . .a complicated answer.”
“Have you heard about the explosion in the Financial District?”
“Yeah.”
“Emily was there.”
“Yeah. I figured. Rumi’s lawyers are down there. The Lion would have wanted her to go there this morning—”
“Yeah, let’s talk about this Lion. Why the fuck would you send him to Emily?”
“Listen, Max. You have to calm down—”
“I’m not calming down. You ended up getting me in this shit, and you know more than you’re telling.”
“I didn’t get you into this. Emily got you into it. You’re the one cleaning up her messes.”
“Because her brother won’t look after her.”
“Oh, that’s why?”
Silence hit the line.
My breathing increased. Rage blazed in my blood. I felt myself growing hot and ready to combust.
With the phone still on my ear, I turned the tv. The distorted photo of Emily’s face showed on the screen again.
Sighing, I said into the phone, “I think. . .I think that. . .she’s dead.”
His words were sad and low. “Me too.”
I closed my eyes and tried to shut the agony away. “Where are you?”
“It doesn’t matter. We have some shit to take care of first, and then we’ll meet up.”
“What shit?”
“Where’s the hooker?”
“I killed her.”
An evil chuckle left him. “You didn’t. You don’t kill women, and you don’t kill unless Emily tells you.”
I opened my eyes and sat down on the couch. “I’ve got her somewhere.”
“Why did you lie?”
“Because I don’t fucking trust you right now. You sent that Russian to Emily and now she’s dead right along with him. Too convenient for you.”
“What the hell would I get from doing that?”
“I don’t know.”
Had Emily been here I would’ve asked her. She’d always been good with shit like that, dissecting things before others.
“We’re in this together, Max.” He said it in that smooth voice he liked to use on Kennedy, when he was lying.
“Who do you think you’re bullshitting?” I gripped the phone harder. “If we were in this together, then I would know what you know.”
“You do.”
“Fuck you, Darryl.”
“Eh, whatever. Just get rid of the hooker. That’s all I’m saying.”
“She’s long gone.”
“She better be. That’s the last loose end.”
I stared at the phone.
The last loose end?
Darryl used to play in the chess club back when shit had been normal. As a kid, I thought it was the most boring thing ever. I always had more fun playing with Emily. She loved to play hide and seek, always finding the best places to disappear. The few times I found her, I would feel like the King of the World.
But now I wished I’d learned more about chess because now I felt like I was on someone’s game board, being played for a fool.
Darryl continued, “I got some money for you, Max.”
“What money?”
“Chill money. Relax money. Funds to get your ass out of the city.”
“I can’t leave. Emily might not be dead. She could just be injured or—”
“She’s dead, man. I don’t want to believe it, but what can we do?”
“Be hopeful.”
“Fuck hopeful. Get the fuck out of this city.”
Why? What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?
“There were Jamaicans where the bomb hit,” I said.
“Yeah, I heard. I doubt it’s anything.”
Which means it’s everything. Darryl has a connection with the Shower Posse. Now it’s nothing?
“Max?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re going to want to get out of this city by the end of tonight. Don’t be thinking about any revenge or what happened and who did this or that. Get out of here.”