“That doesn’t sound like a suggestion.”
“I’m sorry, Max, but it’s not. Get out of here. I don’t want to lose someone else. Enough people have died today.”
This is a check mate. I just don’t know how he took my king.
“Okay, but I don’t need to meet you for any money. I’ve got my own.”
“Good. I would get out of here fast.”
I clenched my jaw, not liking his insinuating threat.
“And get rid of all that Tinder Killer shit.”
I glanced at my office wall where I’d posted the news clippings, hoping to one day explain it to Emily. “Yeah. I guess. . .I don’t need it anymore.”
“Exactly. It’s time to move on.”
Your sister just died. You don’t care? You don’t want revenge like me?
He continued, “In a way, Emily’s death worked everything out.”
I drowned in anger. “How so?”
“Now, we don’t have to clean up her shit.”
The phone hung up. No goodbye or wishes for a safe trip. Just a subtle threat to leave Emily’s murder alone and get the fuck out of New York.
He played me. He fucking played us all.
Chains clinked in my bedroom. I’d put the hooker in there. The Russians and Emily had been keeping me busy. I still wasn’t sure what I would do with the girl.
Darryl was right about one thing. No one else needs to die today.
There was a duffle bag on the coffee table full of money. I’d taken it out from my stash to give some of the money to the hooker. I grabbed two huge stacks. Several thousand in each hand.
I must get her out of here before Darryl gets someone to kill her. He’s behind this. I know it.
I headed to the door and opened it.
Her eyes widened. She tried to scream under the duct tape.
“Hey, don’t.” I kept my hands in the air, showed her the thick stacks of cash, and slowly walked to her. “I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I’m going to let you go.”
She shook but stopped trying to scream.
“You just have to get the fuck out of here. Okay?”
She quickly nodded.
“I’m going to take the duct tape off. The shit will hurt. Then, I’m going to untie you, give you some clothes and money.”
She gave me a look like she didn’t believe me.
“Listen. You walked in on some shit that you weren’t supposed to walk in on.” I peeled the tape from her mouth.
She winced, but kept her gaze on me, remaining silent.
“I needed to make sure you wouldn’t tell a certain set of guys.” I threw the duct tape down and undid the rope on her hands. “Now, those set of guys are dead, and there’s no reason to care about the missing hooker.”
Her lip quivered. “I-I wouldn’t tell anyway.”
“It’s nothing to tell now anyway.” I guided her to sit down on the bed. Her ankles were still tied. I didn’t undo them yet. She probably still wasn’t sure I would let her go and may escape.
She looked tired and hungry on top of being scared to death. I reached up and touched her cheek again, and she flinched. My jaw tightened.
She shook her head. I slid my fingers across her cheek, stealing another touch of her, unable to control myself.
No. Leave her alone. What are you doing? You’re just sad and missing her. . .
“Hold on.” I went to the right side of the room where I’d placed her pocket book. I set the stacks of cash inside. Still rummaging through, I found her wallet and pulled out her driver’s license.
“Brooklyn Thompson,” I read her name. “But, you’re from New Jersey.”
“My mom was from Brooklyn,” she whispered.
“You have to go farther than New Jersey now. West Coast would be better. Jump on a plane, train, or bus.” I gazed at her. “Do you have any kids?”
“No.”
“Good. Then, you can disappear.”
A tear left her eye. “I could.”
“You will.” I placed the driver’s license back in her bag with the money and brought it over to her, laying it on her lap.
“I’m going to untie you, and you’re going to calmly take the clothes in that chair, change, and then you can go.”
She swallowed. “I can go?”
“Yes. I swear to God. I’ll even leave the apartment.” I pointed at her. “But I won’t be far, so don’t call the cops or any shit like that. Get dressed and sneak away with your head up like it’s just a normal day. And then go right to a Greyhound.”
“Okay.”
“Get on a Greyhound to somewhere like Chicago or something. Then when you hit there, get a hotel room.”
She blinked.
“Go to the store and get some dye or scissors. You either need to shave your head or dye that shit blonde or red.”
She nodded.
“Did the brothel service have your real name?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then, you’re good.” I undid her ropes and stood. “You change your look and then go to the airport and buy a ticket. Always use cash.”
She nodded again.
“Go out west. Link up with someone who can give you a new identity.” I backed away. “You got this.”
She grabbed the purse and hugged it to her. “You’re really letting me go?”
“Yes.” I checked my watch. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’ve got some shit I have to do.”
I won’t think Emily’s dead until I see her body. Whatever is left of it.
Ready to get out of there, she pulled off the big shirt I’d put on her. And she was a beautiful, curvy woman.
My cock grew painful from the sight.
I looked away, inhaling her scent one last time and walking out.
The door shut behind me. I heard a click next.
Saving and walking away from pretty women. That had been the story of my life. Not that this would’ve been any type of love affair. In fact, it was kidnapping, but she was still beautiful, and I was still walking away.
And it always dealt with Emily.
You can’t be dead.
Darryl thought I would just rush out of New York and not look back. How could I just leave without dealing with the person who’d killed her? How could I just walk away when she was the reason why I got up every day?
How long had I only lived for Emily?
I left my apartment and went to her door which was right across from mine. I placed my hands against the cold wood’s surface as if I could feel her heartbeat come from it.
If Emily’s dead, then I’ll burn this place down. That’s the one thing I could do for her.
Tears left my eyes as I placed both hands flat against the door. Old memories rushed back to me. Hurtful ones. Visions that kept me up at night, filled with regret.
“Come on, kids.” My dad laughed as he took a swig of rum and left the bottle on the table. Other adults played cards on top of it—Emily’s dad, Willie, Xavier, and Kennedy’s parents who were notorious for cheating at spades.
Emily’s dad Willie pointed at them. “You two are signaling each other again!”
“We are not.” Kennedy’s mother scratched her forehead. “I just had an itch.”