Kylie was on a four-way video call with Rita, Priyanka, and Alma, reassuring them that she was alive and definitely not kidnapped, while Micah was doing a chauvinism with Logan in the living room. “So we’re in New York City, staying with a guy who Micah knows. I don’t know what his name is. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy where you have to know his name, if you know what I mean.”
The three of them knew what she meant.
Alma asked, “What’s it like in New York City? I’ve never been.”
“Jeez, you’ve never been to the city for a show?” Priyanka asked her, aghast.
Alma shrugged. “We have shows in Atlantic City. Why would I go all the way up there? Kylie, show us the view.”
With one screenshot of the view, someone could triangulate the building and probably the floor they were on.
Rita said, “Yeah, show us the view.”
Showing them Central Park, the view from the front side of the building, would narrow down their location way too much. The sunrise would pinpoint where East was, and the angle of the park would give everything away.
Instead, Kylie padded over to the window there in the back bedroom and held her phone up to the cityscape view, jiggling it a little.
Her phone emitted a chorus of voices. “Hold it still so we can see!”
Kylie turned the phone back on herself and walked back to the bed. “Sorry, I guess even my arms are tired after last night.”
Jeering hooted from the speaker.
Rita asked, “Did he make you do all the work? Jeez, do guys ever get on top voluntarily?”
Just as Kylie was formulating a saucy response, Micah stormed into the room. “Let’s go.”
The girls’ voices squawked from her phone.
“What’s going on?”
“Who’s that?”
“Where are you anyway?”
“Mute,” Micah said.
Kylie scrambled for the button. “What happened?”
“We’re leaving. Get ready.”
“Where are we going?” she asked because the phone was muted and she wanted to know.
He said, “Unmute the phone.”
She did.
Micah projected his voice more than usual, saying, “We’re leaving in five minutes. Our host found out what happened in Philly and is calling the Genovese Family, the feds, or both in five minutes. We need to move the car before we get a parking ticket, anyway. We’ll drive to a hotel over in Rockland County or Westchester, maybe one with a parking lot this time. We can hole up there until we figure out where is safe for us to go.”
More panic buffeted Kylie, but she noticed that Micah hadn’t said Logan’s name. “I thought you said you could trust this guy.”
“He doesn’t owe any loyalty to me. I’m just some guy from his distant past who showed up out of nowhere, asking for booze and a bed for the night. As soon as it seems safe, I’ll get myself lost in Chicago or California. San Diego has better weather this time of year. Tomorrow morning, I’ll put you on a bus to Alabama like you wanted.”
Like she wanted? That wasn’t right. “Okay?”
Micah continued, “Let’s go. Hey, is that thing still on?”
He grabbed it out of her hands.
Kylie gasped, “Hey!”
Micah powered off her phone and shoved it into the side pocket of the boxy backpack holding the art.
“What the hell!” she demanded. “Is that the actual plan now? Are you going to San Diego and putting me on a bus to Alabama?”
“Of course not,” he scoffed.
“But they’ll tell Salvatore what we just said! They’ll give him wrong information, and then he’ll beat the hell out of them or worse!”
Micah shook his head. “No source is correct a hundred percent of the time. If they were, that would be a huge red flag something was too good. They’ve given him several concrete pieces of accurate information, and now they’ll be wrong for once. He won’t hurt them, not when they have an inside line to us.”
“I can’t leave them like this! I need to go back.”
He spun and glared at her, his eyes glittering in the morning sunshine like diamonds. “I wasn’t kidding. Get dressed. Zip your bag. We need to leave now.”
Kylie flipped her PJs off and grabbed a dress with a floaty skirt out of her suitcase. It wasn’t warm enough, but it was what she had with her.
Logan didn’t see them out. They hustled down to the parking garage.
A different attendant stood in the kiosk near the elevators, and she called out, “Are you Mr. Bell’s guests?”
“Yes,” Micah answered, shoving the handle of his suitcase down. Kylie followed suit.
The parking valet stuck two fingers in her mouth and blasted a piercing whistle through the garage that echoed off the concrete and car metal in the dark corners of the garage.
A limousine with blacked-out windows coasted to a stop in front of them. The chauffeur trotted around to put their bags in the yawning trunk.
Micah opened the door. “Get in.”
“This isn’t—” she started.
“I know.”
Kylie dove into the car and scooted across the velvety leather to sit behind the driver. Her knee-length white skirt trailed across the dark leather seat as she shuffled, and she stuffed it under her thighs to get it out of Micah’s way.
Micah stepped into the car after her, his long legs clad in Levi’s. His jeans had a knife-edge crease where they’d been pressed, and the dark denim hugged his ass and thighs so snugly that they must have been tailored.
“Where are we—” she began.
The chauffeur wedged herself into the driver’s seat and wrenched herself around to ask Micah, “JFK Airport, right?”
“Liberty International in Newark, Signature Flight Support terminal,” Micah told the chauffeur. “And hurry. Our flight leaves in an hour.”