Honored (City Series Book 4)(11)

I was finally beginning to understand the meaning of "the devil you know is better than the devil you don't."

I grabbed a mug of coffee and sat down at the bar, turning the television on and idly flipping through the channels. I ended up on the news but didn't really pay attention. It wasn't like they were going to report anything important, anyway.

Luis came out a few minutes later with my breakfast, and I gave him a grateful nod. I tucked into it, feeling somewhat more human with a stomach full of coffee and food.

What the fuck was I going to do? It was true that, despite all the whisky, I had come up with a possible plan. But it wasn't a good plan, by any means, and it would be incredibly dangerous. No matter what I did, somebody was going to get hurt. My ultimate goal was to make sure it was me who did the most bleeding, and not someone that I cared about. It was me who decided to enter the life, not Ellie or Richie or Luis. Hell, even Colin and Leary were innocent, as far as that went.

The bar's phone began to ring, piercing through my headache, and I glanced around. Nobody was in sight, so I slowly got off my stool, reached over the counter, and grabbed the receiver.

"Liam here," I grunted.

"Well, just the man I was looking for," came Colm's snake voice.

I felt a stab of adrenaline. Why was he calling again?

"Hi, Colm, how are you today?"

"I'm fine. You sound like shit."

"Just the whisky."

He laughed. "Well, I have some good and bad news for you."

"What's up?"

I felt my fear mounting in my chest. For some reason, I had a horrible feeling.

"Things have changed, my friend. The good news is, you're off the hook for the time being."

I blinked. "So you're not killing the girl?"

He laughed again. "That's the bad news. The bitch got spooked and called the cops. We don't know why or what she told them, but she has to be taken care of today. Max is on his way, so don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at myself in the mirror. Max was on his way to Ellie's apartment, and he was going to murder her. That ruthless fuck was going to kill the girl in her own apartment.

I didn't hear what Colm said next, and I didn't care. I dropped the phone and ran into my office, grabbing the gun from the other night, plus my jacket and my keys, and then I raced through the main bar and outside into the piercing morning daylight. My hangover still lingered at the edges of my brain, but the fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins were slowly burning it away.

I unlocked my car, threw the door open, and jumped in, starting the engine. I pulled out fast, driving like a maniac. I blew through a stop sign, took a hard right turn and barely missed a pedestrian, and sped west. I gritted my teeth as I got caught at a red but slowly rolled through it anyway.   





 

Max was on his way. Max was on his way to kill her that very second, and I was ten minutes away at least. If I was lucky, I could cut that in half, but would I be too late? From what I knew, Max had been staking her out for the past few days in that stupid fucking van, stalking her like an asshole. She had probably spotted him, and it had scared her, which made her call the cops.

What were they thinking? If Ellie was going to talk to the police about what she had seen, didn't they realize she would have done it already? Colm was paranoid, insane with trying to hold on to the Mob. He was willing to make reckless and stupid moves, and it was going to get him and everyone else killed. Worse, it was going to get Ellie killed.

I pressed harder on the gas and zoomed through the streets, weaving around slow cars where I could and cutting down side streets when I was blocked by traffic. I silently prayed that a cop didn't see me, because Ellie was dead if I got pulled over. Frankly, I wasn't even sure if I would stop for a cop; maybe they'd be able to help stop Max.

My wheels screeched and sent up smoke as I pulled a hard right into Ellie's neighborhood, flying down the street. My hands gripped the wheel as I blew through two more stop signs, coming up to her block. Up ahead, parked in the middle of the street with its doors wide open and emergency lights flashing, was a black van. It was missing its license plate, but I knew exactly who owned it.

I was too late. I was too fucking late. Max had gotten there before me.

I slammed on my brakes and jumped out the door, the gun already in my hand. I flicked off the safety and jumped up her stoop. The building's front door was locked, so I shot it off, using three bullets, but I didn't care. I didn't have time to sneak in. I kicked the door open, wood splintering all over the place, and jumped inside.

My heart was going to break through my chest.

I couldn't be too late. I couldn't be too late.

As I barreled up the steps, there were no thoughts in my mind other than the overwhelming need to save her life.





Chapter Ten: Ellie


I sat at my kitchen table, looking at the Saturday morning light filtering in through the windows. I sipped my coffee and sighed, feelings of shame and anger still lingering from the night before.

The cops came pretty fast. But by the time they arrived, the van had already pulled away, and it didn't show up again. At first, the two officers were pretty kind to me; they came into my apartment, sat down at my table, and listened to me as I told them about this mysterious van following me around. They didn't put too much stock in the guys dumping packages into the river-apparently that happened all the time-but they didn't seem like they outright didn't believe me.

They had agreed to stick around the neighborhood for a little while and keep an eye out for any suspicious vans. So for the next half hour, they parked down at the corner and waited. I paced around my room, embarrassed and nervous.

Of course the van never showed up again. After a half hour went by, the cops came back and told me that there was nothing they could do. They said I was probably seeing different vans, that I was just upset from the guys harassing me the other day, and that I should consider talking to a friend or something instead of calling the police. They left after that, and I buried my face in a pillow.

I had never called the police before in my entire life. I had never needed to, for any reason. I wasn't the kind of person to overreact about something or to make things up for attention. I knew what was happening to me.

I wasn't crazy. I definitely wasn't crazy. I couldn't be crazy, could I?

I took another sip of coffee and sighed. I looked at Petey in the other room and wished he could verify my story. He had seen the van at least once or twice, and he was around when the guy chased me.

Unfortunately, Petey was a dog, and his English wasn't great.

The cops were actually pretty nice about everything in the end. I understood that they felt like I was wasting their time, though they didn't rub that in my face too much. Philly was full of real problems. But I genuinely had no interest in making up stories, let alone in making the police come out every time I was scared. In the end, it was completely pointless to have called them, and I regretted it. They made me feel like a bratty princess, even though they were more than professional, when I was far from that. I had gone through my own shit, dealt with my own demons, and I always would. I hated that I was suddenly the girl who was afraid of random vans.

The coffee was cold on my next sip, and I sighed. As I stood up to refresh my cup, I heard my doorbell buzz.

Petey let out a bark and I looked up, surprised. I wasn't expecting anyone. I padded over barefoot to the intercom system and hit the button.   





 

"Yes?" I said.

"Got a delivery here for you," the guy said.

"Uh, okay, come on up," I said, buzzing him in.

I wasn't expecting anything, but it wasn't impossible that I had a package. I was like everyone else: I loved buying stuff online and having it appear at my apartment. It was almost like magic.

Not long after I let him up, there was a loud knock at my door. Petey started barking.

"Hold on a second," I called out.

I walked over to Petey and took him by the collar. "Petey, come on," I said. I pulled him over to my bedroom, opened the door, and moved him in.

"Stay here," I said, closing the door behind me. Satisfied the poor delivery guy wasn't going to get mobbed by Petey, I walked back to the front door, released the bolt, and pulled it open.

The guy standing there wasn't a deliveryman. He was wearing a black ski mask, a black sweatshirt, loose jeans, and was easily over six feet tall.

"Who are-" I said, but before I could say anything more, he pulled out a gun and shoved it in my face.

"Get inside, bitch," he said, voice gruff.

My insides felt like ice as I backed into my apartment. My eyes were wide and I put my hands up. It almost seemed fake. I felt myself begin to tremble as he followed me in, shutting the door behind him.

"On the couch," he grunted.

"Okay, please don't hurt me," I said in a quiet voice.

I backed into the living room and sat down on the couch, my entire body shaking. I had never seen a real gun in front of me before, let alone had a man wearing a ski mask shove one in my face.

For a brief moment, I wished that the cops could have been around. Not to save me, but to see what was happening as proof that I wasn't insane.

"If you fucking scream or move, I will kill you," the man said, sitting down on the coffee table, facing me. He held the gun pointed at my chest.

"Take whatever you want," I managed to say. My voice was shaky, and I felt like I was about to cry. In my bedroom, Petey began whining, but thankfully he didn't bark.