Page 29 of Break You

“Ha! Really? None of them are going to say a word, trust me.”

“I know arrogance is woven into your DNA, but how can you be so sure that if the police come knocking, they won’t squawk like canaries?”

“Arrogance has nothing to do with it.” Not that I was denying being gifted from birth with way more than my fair share of confidence. I was my father’s son, after all. “I have enough dirt on each of them to sink their entire families. Believe me, nobody is going to say anything.”

“Okay, so where is the girl now?”

“I have no idea.” I shrugged nonchalantly.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I can’t answer that, but my guess is that you have a suspicious mind.”

“That may well be the case, but with you in my life, it’s essential to my survival. I’m telling you now that if I hear she’s hurt, or worse, it won’t be pretty between us. And for the record, don’t use Cygnus for your personal dirty work. Whatever fetish or obsession you have with this girl is between the two of you—Fox told me how you nearly tore him limb from limb over her at the bar the other night—don’t bring us all down, because you were stunted in adolescence and don’t know how to deal with the feelings you’ve caught.”

I shrugged again. “Whatever.”

Rocky

The shock on impact was like nothing I’d ever experienced. As my body acclimated to the fact that instead of hurtling toward the ground at the end of a noose, I was plunging through several feet of water, I gulped in a surprised breath, having been holding it in preparation for my fall. Big mistake. Taking in a lungful of water had me choking and sure I was about to drown instead of hanging. The thought and feeling were no less terrifying, and the panic set in hard as I struggled to stop choking.

Then, in a moment of startling clarity, I told myself I had to calm down if I wanted to survive. I clamped my mouth shut and quickly started working my arms and legs to stop myself from plunging further. I fought hard, working against gravity to pull myself upward through the bitingly cold water. My trajectory wasn’t helped by the fact that I was fully clothed—my waterlogged shoes alone adding several pounds of weight. As I broke through the surface, I gulped in large lungfuls of air, then yanked the blindfold off my face.

As much as I wanted to be strong and stoic, I couldn’t stop the tears of anger and relief from falling hard and fast. Hate didn’t even begin to describe the emotion I was feeling. Turning quickly, I wasted no time in swimming to the stairs and hauling myself out of the pool. Not only did I not want to be there for a moment longer than I had to, but after the ordeal I’d been through, my energy was sapped, and I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to keep myself afloat while weighed down by my saturated work clothes and heavy, sturdy shoes.

I emerged shivering, both from the cold and from fright, and looked around me. I appeared to be on the roof of the Swan Club. Taking in my surroundings, I guessed that the “hangman’s plank” I’d been shuffling along was the diving board at the deep end of the pool. I felt so foolish to have been standing there thinking I was going to fall to my death, but what else could I have done, except taken a crazy masked man’s word that he wanted to kill me?

The fact was, he still might, for all I knew. The music had stopped, and I hadn’t seen or heard any signs of life since hauling myself from the pool. That wasn’t to say that something worse wasn’t waiting for me. I reached for a towel from a nearby lounger, and as I wrapped it around my shaking shoulders, something caught my eye.

I looked and saw my bag and phone, placed neatly on the ground, and next to them another bag that I didn’t recognize. I approached cautiously, fearing the worst—a bomb or a severed horse’s head. I grabbed my phone first, looking at the time. Ten after eight. Prinnie would start worrying soon if she didn’t hear from me. I weighed up my options quickly.

I should have called 911 immediately to report the entire incident. That would be the sensible thing to do, of course it would. I hesitated, knowing that wasn’t what I was going to do. Something in my gut told me not to. And this time, I decided to follow that feeling.

Instead, I fired off a quick text to Prinnie, trying my best not to drip water all over my phone. It wasn’t like I could afford to replace it if it got ruined.

Me: Sorry, got too busy to message you. All good here. Easy money.

A ping came straight back, and I was hit with a pang of guilt, both for the fact that she’d been worrying about me, and had been right to do so, but also for lying to her about it.

Prinnie: Okay, stay safe. LY.

Me: LYT

I slipped the phone into the front pocket of my backpack and gave the other bag the side eye. The outside of it held no clues. In fact, it was noticeably nondescript—a plain black paper gift bag. I decided to throw caution to the wind and open it. After what I’d just endured, what did I really have to lose?

Your limbs, if it blows up in your hands.

After the psychological game of cat and mouse that the masked weirdo had just played on me; I guessed bombs weren’t really his style, unless it was in some kind of Speed-style hostage situation. Either way, I was willing to take my chances. Pulling it open a little, I gasped audibly when I saw what was inside, and pulled the bag open wider to get a better view.

I’d never seen so much money in one place before. Clean, crisp Cs. I didn’t need to count it to see that it was way more than one thousand dollars. Before I had time to think or talk myself out of it, I reached in and plucked one small bundle I flicked through counting out ten bills, and pulled them free of the white paper wrap holding the bundle together. I tucked it into the front pocket of my backpack before running across the roof terrace as fast as I could while weighed down by my dripping clothes.

The pool area was surrounded by floor-to-ceiling French doors, and as I lunged toward one, I hoped to God it was open. Trying the handle, I was relieved to find that it was, though that relief was short-lived when I remembered that I still had to make my way back through the rest of the building, and I had no idea what was waiting for me down the stairs.

I dashed toward them regardless, making note of the fact that the room was still, and seemingly empty. Then my only plan was to run for my life until something or someone stopped me. I jumped the stairs as many at a time as I could without breaking a bone, and kept going until I saw the ominous-looking front door.

I lunged at it, fumbling with what seemed like a million locks, all the while looking over my shoulder. I couldn’t see or hear anything, but I didn’t want to wait around until that changed. After what seemed like an eternity, I managed to get each lock, catch and bolt open. I darted out, filling my lungs with air untainted by the stench of creepiness as I ran down the stairs and onto the street.

I bolted toward the subway, not caring that I looked like a drowned rat, and not looking behind me to see if I was being followed. I ran until each breath tore through my lungs like wildfire through dry bushland, then I ran some more. When I reached the station, I paused only to swipe through the turnstiles, jumping on the first train at the platform, not caring where it took me, as long as it was away from there. I got lucky—it was the right one. I rode it standing up, trying not to drip on anybody.

---