Chapter 1 #2
I grab her hand and shake my head, just as lost as she is, but when I turn my eyes to the door I start to figure it out.
Three men have entered the place, and it’s easy to see that they mean trouble.
They’re not the sort of people who come to this sort of place.
We’re right down the street from NYU so this diner generally holds students and professors.
TAs who are on their break and come here to grade papers.
The street artists who like to hang out in front of campus picking students’ brains for new ideas.
Mothers and their kids getting lunch in the middle of their shopping day.
Harmless citizens who would never hurt a fly.
The men who’ve just walked in look like they’re ready to do a lot more than hurt a fly.
They’re in black trench coats and fedoras and look like they’ve just stepped out of a fucking forties-era noir film.
Their eyes are dark and darting, their hands sporting leather gloves.
One of the guys isn’t even bothering to hide the fact that he’s holding a gun in his pocket.
They’re looking for something or someone, and the shadows follow them like a fucking cloak.
I’ve only been attached to the underworld for four years, and even I can see that those are the bad guys everyone talks about.
“Trouble,” I breathe.
They spot us before I can finish the word, though, and I have one of those moments where everything around you slows to a crawl but your brain keeps working at full speed, so you’re thinking in double time as the events around you nearly freeze.
Which means I know they’re here for us before I can get my body to start moving.
I don’t know why or how or what they might possibly want—the three of us aren’t valuable enough to be normal targets—but when the main guy’s eyes land on me and sharpen, I know I’m right.
Whoever those guys are, they definitely came here with specific targets in mind.
And those targets are us.
“Run,” I snap.
Arden’s hand jerks in mine. “What?” she gasps.
“Run!” I shout, jumping up from my chair and pulling her with me.
I don’t think or pause but let my instincts guide me as my brain tears through our options.
There’s a back door through the kitchen, and I know that because we’ve used it before when a guy Stella didn’t like got in here with us.
If we get past the main counter and into the kitchen itself, it’s a straight shot to that door.
That’s where we need to go.
I’m running before I think any further, my feet flying over the black checkered floor and toward the kitchen, Arden racing after me.
I didn’t grab Stella but she’s smart enough to follow, and she’s faster than both Arden and me.
We hit the gap in the counter and I burst through it, tugging my friend after me.
Only a few steps and we’re in the kitchen, skidding on the scraps of vegetables the cooks have left on the floor as we race for the exit.
Behind us, I can hear shouting, demands shouted in Italian, and the sound of heavy feet coming after us. People screaming.
Gunfire.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I breathe, trying to get my mind to work. What could those guys possibly be after? What would they want us? And which one of us did they come in here for?
I have a really bad feeling that it’s me. I’m the least valuable of the three of us—Arden and Stell are both directly related to families, whereas I’m just adopted—but I know something no one else knows.
And if those guys somehow found out about it...
Suddenly a shadow falls across us and a man shoots into our path, and I crash right into him, too close to stop myself. Arden runs into me and I can feel another impact that must mean Stella was right on our heels, and when I look up, I see the man I noticed earlier in the corner.
The one who was too awake at midnight.
“Professor Hawke?” Arden asks from behind me.
I jerk, surprised. Professor? Does he teach at NYU? I’ve never seen him, but Arden is in a different program than I am, and I don’t question that she might know him.
I do question what comes out of Stella’s mouth, though.
“Benjamin?”
The word is a gasp, full of relief and something that sounds an awful lot like longing, and I shoot a look over my shoulder at my best friend.
She’s right behind Arden, towering over the smaller girl, and though I expect to see her looking terrified and confused—which is what I’m feeling—her face is. ..
Relieved.
She’s staring at the man in front of me like he’s fucking Jesus Christ, come down off his cross just to save her.
My mind snags on the thought but before I can process it someone in the restaurant part of the building starts shooting again, and every thought of Stella’s face goes right out of my brain.
Until a large, muscular arm shoots around me to grab both Arden and Stella. My friends grasp his hand like he’s some sort of familiar lifeline and are immediately yanked around me to this Benjamin Hawke’s side.
Moments later they’ve been disappeared through the door to the outside world.
And moments after that, the door is slamming shut in my face.
I rush to it and jerk at the handle, breathless with desperation and shock. Who the fuck was that guy? How did he happen to be in the kitchen right when we were, and where the fuck did he come from? Why did he reach around me like that and yank Arden and Stella to him?
Where in the devil are my friends?
I yank at the door, pulling with all my might on the handle, but it’s no good. It must have locked behind them or something, because it doesn’t budge.
Which leaves me trapped in here on my own, left behind by the guy who rushed in to save my friends.
Stuck here with whoever is shooting people in the main restaurant.
By myself.
As always.
I whirl around, looking desperately for some other way out of this kitchen, but I already know there’s nothing else here.
We’ve been through this place top to bottom in the past—don’t ask why, because I won’t tell you—and the only other way out of the building is through the main doors in the front.
Where the shooting is happening.
God, I’m cooked. I’m completely screwed. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here when—
Suddenly a man appears in the kitchen, gun up and dressed in the uniform of a New York City cop, and I nearly cry in relief.
The police are here. Thank God. I can still hear shooting and shouting in the restaurant, but they must have everything under control.
Maybe they’re shooting the bad guys. Saving everyone who’s not a criminal.
He’s here to save me.
I’m saved.
“Hands up!” he screams. “Drop anything you’re holding!”
“What?” I gasp. “I’m not holding anything! I’m in college!”
“That doesn’t mean shit to me, little girl! Hands in the sky, you’re under arrest!”
I put my hands up automatically, too surprised to do anything else. Under arrest? For what? I was running from the people they should be arresting! Those guys were shooting at us!
Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on here? Why is this guy arresting me?
And where in the love of all the saints are my friends?