CHAPTER 12
Sparks
I flip the table as I shut the power off to the room, hoping to buy us a few seconds to get away.
Astrid yelps as she opens the door to the hallway, finding three burly men blocking the exit.
She dives between them as their meaty clubs for hands grab at her.
Enraged, I flick bolts down from the ceiling, striking each of the men.
They crumple to the ground, and I jump over them, seizing Astrid’s arm and dragging her into the hallway.
We turn toward the elevator as the doors open. I groan as more men file out.
“Stairs?” Astrid suggests, a bit frantically.
“Stairs,” I agree.
We turn on our heels as Marissa’s henchmen stumble out of the conference room. I’m a bit annoyed to be doing all of the work. Astrid got us into this mess, she could at least help save our hides. It is at this time I recognize a critical issue.
“There’s no water,” I pant as we run.
“Nope,” Astrid squeaks.
No doubt she thought of this much earlier, essentially powerless. I pull a fire alarm as we pass, hoping to engage the sprinklers. Nothing happens. No alarm, no sprinklers, nada. Fuck.
We come to a three-way intersection. Astrid looks around wildly, not seeing a sign for a staircase. More hostiles approach from the right. An emergency exit sign is lit up on the left. I make a split decision.
“Go left!” I order. “I’ll buy you some time.”
She turns to challenge me, but I already have sparks dripping from my fingertips.
She wisely decides to take off down the hallway, hiking up her dress to run faster.
I only hope she uses my knife if she gets stuck.
But I can’t worry about her right now, I have my own problems. I face the men brave or stupid enough to face me.
“Who’s first?” I taunt.
I don’t wait for an answer. The lights flicker in the hallway as I sprint toward the mass.
I move as a banshee, flinging electricity as I spin around the first hostile.
I don’t check to see who I hit as a scream cries.
The truth of the matter is all of these men will die tonight. The order doesn’t matter.
My body is electrified. Every punch, kick, and jab take another man down.
I slide between the legs of another, popping up behind him and twisting his neck in one fluid motion.
Someone draws a firearm. I duck and the bullet flies into the unlucky bastard behind me.
After the other day, I am not as forgiving of getting shot at.
I throw a bolt and discharge him quickly.
Soon, only one man is left. He stares at me with fear in his eyes before turning to run.
I slowly pick up the fallen rifle and fire.
He crumples to the ground. I drop the weapon, satisfied.
I can’t find Astrid as I trot down the left hallway. Hopefully, she was able to find her way out. I twist and turn through the standard hotel labyrinth before finding a staircase. I take the steps two or three at a time, in a hurry to leave this godforsaken place.
On the ground floor, I speedwalk toward the exit, smoothing my dress as I go. I notice a man guarding the main doors. Slyly, I change course, meandering with a small group of socialites back into the ballroom. The guard takes a step away from his post, trying to determine if I was his target.
“Dance with me.” I grab the arm of a man standing nearby and pull him toward the dance floor.
“Oh! Um, sure.” He follows me, a bit surprised but not opposed.
“I just love this song,” I lie, hoping to cover for my abrupt actions.
“Yeah, those cats are cooking.” The man gives me some cheesy finger guns before extending his hand.
I give a flirtatious curtsy as I accept. A residual trace of electricity shocks him, and he jerks away. He laughs it off as he shakes his hand.
“I guess I was shocked such a stunning woman asked me to dance.” He retakes my hand and gives me a slow spin. I glance at the guard over his shoulder, relieved when he retakes his place by the door, unconcerned. “But I’m glad you did.”
“You’re laying it on a bit thick,” I tease, but smile at his compliment.
The truth is, he wasn’t too bad to look at himself.
He’s a bit older than me, maybe late twenties.
His black hair is trimmed close to his head, but he has a little bit of length on top, swept out of his face.
His hazel eyes were warm, with a charming glint.
He moves gracefully and powerfully, with a firm control of his body.
“What’s your name?” He asks, placing his warm hand against the small of my back.
“I could tell you.” I coyly look at him through my eyelashes. “Or we could live in the moment. Just a man in a suit and a woman in a dress, crossing paths for just one night. It’s everything all at once, and then it’s nothing.”
Bullseye. He swoons, gazing starstruck into my eyes.
Men fucking love when you look at them through your eyelashes.
He pulls me in a hair tighter, though not too much to no longer be gentlemanly.
We sway together for the rest of the song.
A spin here, a small dip there, he leads with evident practice.
I have just enough coordination to not embarrass myself, especially as I keep making small glances over his shoulder looking for a navy dress or a battalion of muscle.
I don’t see either. The band ends with a flourish, and I give my mystery date a polite curtsy.
“I’m afraid that’s my cue,” I apologize. “I have to be going.”
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in another dance?” He accepts the shake of my head graciously, albeit a bit disappointed. “Then please, allow me to escort you out.”
Miraculously, the guard posted by the door takes this moment to move. Although I don’t know what that means for Astrid, I acquiesce, and my suitor extends his arm. Together we stroll outside to the front of the hotel. The stars shine in the sky, and he stops for a brief moment to examine them.
“Stunning,” he says after he turns back to me. I’m not sure which he is referring to. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Until we meet again.”
He hesitates, not wanting to step away. His eyes look into mine and I can feel his indecision.
Any other day, I might take him to a hotel for a bit of fun, but I’m on the clock.
He’s a pawn, helping me blend in while I make my escape.
Unfortunately, he never stood a chance from my manipulations. I feel guilty, using him this way.
I make his decision for him, gently placing a hand on his neck and pulling him down. My lips brush his cheek, leaving a soft smudge of red lipstick in their wake.
With that I turn and walk away, fishing out my phone. Do I call her? What if she’s hiding, and the ring of her phone gives her away? I type out a text, thinking a single beep isn’t too bad, but then I get nervous and delete it.
But what if she needs help? God, I hate this bitch. I feel like I’m babysitting the most useless child. I debate this back and forth, ending up sending a text with only a single question mark in the message.
There’s a clatter down the alley toward my left.
I roll my eyes, already dreading what I’m going to find.
I peek around the wall as I see Astrid burst through the door.
Her hair is flying wildly, her previous coiffed bun long since ruined.
She falls to the ground as the door gives.
Apparently, she had to force it open. She quickly stands, slamming the door shut on someone’s head.
He crumples to the ground, but he wasn’t alone.
Astrid doesn’t see me, instead takes off toward the other side of the alley.
A second hulking man is hot on her tail, just a foot behind.
Fuck. My knife is on the ground. Astrid must have dropped it when she fell. I scoop it up as I trot after them. The blade is clean. Jesus, Astrid, do you not know how to use a knife?
A scream draws my attention from down the alley. The man has caught up to Astrid, enveloping her in his arms. To be fair, Astrid is putting up a formidable fight, squirming and thrashing in his grip.
Deep breath in.
Take aim.
Don’t miss.
I fling the knife down the alley, lodging it directly between the man’s shoulder blades. Astrid screams again when she notices the magically appearing knife.
“Shut up,” I hiss, pulling her up. “Are you trying to attract more? Let’s get out of here!”
“You could have hit me!” She says as I drag her along, partly in shock and partly pissed. Whatever.
“Don’t be insulting,” I retort. “I don’t miss.” I do actually, but that wouldn’t make her feel better right now. Little white lies never hurt anybody. Knives do.
Astrid stumbles as we run, having lost her shoes somewhere between the first and second floor. Despite the filthy Bostonian sidewalks, I kick mine off too, discarding my heels to prioritize speed as we flee beneath dim streetlights.
We make it to the train station, and I go to my locker, punching in a code. The door swings open and I grab my duffel, slinging it over my shoulder.
“Let’s go.” I wave for her to follow. “What train is leaving the station next?”
“What?” She blinks wildly, shaking her head. “Go where? What? No!”
“Astrid, I have enough cash for us to have a solid start.” I pat the bag. “But we need to go before they catch up to us.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” I hope that tone of voice is shock and not disgust. Bitch.
“Actually, you’re right. They’re looking for the two of us.” I unzip the bag and rummage around. “We should split up. Do you want to go north or south?”
“No!” Astrid pulls my duffel away. A shirt falls out of the bag and onto the floor. “We can’t just up and leave. I have a life here! Brew for Two, my apartment, my family. Oh god, my family!”
She starts to hyperventilate, and for a moment, I pity her. It’s always hard to leave. This is my what? Fourth? Fifth? And I still mourn the people I leave behind, like Derek.
“They’re safer if you leave,” I reassure her. “Think of the opportunities! You can go anywhere you want. Have you ever been to Chicago? I’ve heard the pizza is great. Or you could go to Miami, or Atlanta…” I snap my fingers. “San Francisco! You look like a San Francisco fan.”
Despite my best efforts, she just starts to bawl. I’m starting to get flustered. I feel vulnerable standing in the middle of the train station.
“Pick where you want to go,” I plead, desperately. “I’ll come with you. We don’t have to split up. You’ll land on your feet, I’ll make sure of it.”
“No,” she whimpers as her tears dry. “I’m staying.”
“We don’t have time for this,” I groan. “I need to go.”
“Then leave.” Astrid turns away from me. “You’re good at it.”
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I stand, taken aback at her dig. “Also, now is very much not the time.”
“When things get hard, you walk away,” she spits. “You just turn and hide. That’s not how I work.”
“Are we talking about the same people?” I gesture between the two of us. “I seem to recall you leaving me.”
“I never saw you again!” She glares. “You didn’t come by the shop, you didn’t come back to the apartment, nothing!”
“What does a breakup mean to you?” I am honestly flabbergasted. Bewildered. Dumbstruck. “Did you want me to come back?”
“Of course I did!” She sobs. “I wanted you to knock on my door in the middle of the night, begging for us to try again, saying we could make it work if we tried. I wanted you to throw snowballs at my window until I came onto the fire escape. I wanted you to show that you cared that we broke up, not just disappear like a whisper of smoke. I waited for you for weeks, but you never came.”
“This isn’t fair.” Tears sting my eyes, and I sniffle embarrassingly. “You made it pretty clear that you wanted me gone.”
“Can you blame me?” Astrid sits on a bench, scratching at the skirt of her dress. “That was the worst night of my life.”
“Look,” I sigh. “Let’s talk about this on the train. You can yell and scream and whatever you need, I can take it. Let’s go to San Francisco.”
“I’m not going.” She plants her feet. “Go by yourself.”
“They’ll kill you,” I say. “I can’t keep you safe.”
“You’re not responsible for me.” She leans back, arms crossed.
“I can’t just leave you like this.” I wave my hands at her disheveled form.
“Go.” She glares.
“Fine,” I sigh, defeated. “I’ll text you my number when I get a new phone. If you decide to hide, you can join me in San Francisco.”
Astrid won’t look at me, just sits on the bench.
I rezip my duffel and sling it over my shoulder, crossing the tracks until I get to my platform.
I find my own bench and hunker down, watching her across the station.
My train arrives, and Astrid looks up as I board.
We lock eyes. I stand there in the aisle.
I should find my seat. I should try to get some sleep so I can hit the ground running tomorrow. I should do a lot of things.
I should not step back onto the platform. I should not watch the train leave, chugging along without me. I should not restuff my go-bag into my locker. But I do.
Astrid stands as I approach her, wiping her tears off her cheeks.
“We’re still not friends,” I grumble.
“Wouldn’t want to be,” she gripes.
Fuck.