Page 120 of Brassy Bigwig

212-555-1212: ILL KNOW IF YOU DO

My phone drops from my hands as I read the new messages from Blake. I can’t believe this is happening.

Fuck.

What do I do? He can hack in to our security system, so why wouldn’t he be able to hack in to my cell phone, too? Did he track me to the office last night? Maybe he realized how long I was there? Or that Ivan drove me home instead of me taking another cab?

I want to call D so bad and tell him what’s happening, but I’m scared Blake will find out and hurt Shelby because of me. I can’t let that happen. My head still feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton, but I can’t let that slow me down. I only allow myself to linger in the apartment long enough to change into the shorts on my bed and a t-shirt before flying down the eight flights of stairs to the street and hailing a cab. As soon as I’m seated, I shout the address and tell him to step on it.

The drive through the city and into Brooklyn feels like it takes forever. My heart lurches when we pass the street Il Forno is on. I look at the time and wonder briefly if D is already there. It’s twelve o’ clock. I’m sure he is, because he wouldn’t have been able to focus on work anyway. He’s probably sitting in front of the restaurant in the limo, wasting time, waiting for me to arrive. I try to control my breathing while also reminding the driver I’m in a hurry. Though I’m terrified to get to my destination. I want to save Shelby more than anything, but I don’t know if I can take on Blake by myself.

And Reed. Poor Reed didn’t deserve to get dragged in to this. He’s so innocent in all of it. My heart breaks at the fact that he’s gone. And it’s all my fault. I wipe away more tears as we exit the Queens Midtown Tunnel. We’re that much closer to wherever it is that Blake has Shelby.

Why did I have to drink wine last night? If I hadn’t, maybe I would have been awake in enough time to go to breakfast with Shelby and Reed. We all would have been together when Blake contacted them or attacked them or whatever he did to get them where they are now.

I feel the taxi driver’s eyes on me as I let out a sob I was trying to hold in.

“Are you okay, miss?” he inquires.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks,” I try to offer him a tiny smile, but I can’t.

Not wanting to draw any more attention to myself, I wipe my eyes and try to think about what I can do to get Shelby out of there and away from that sick fuck.

Before I’m ready, the cab pulls up in front of a strip of rowhomes. Right in front of me is 8293. I throw a hundred-dollar bill at the cab driver and get out of the car. Running up the front steps, I feel the effects of the wine still in my system. Something is wrong; wine has never done this to me before. I chalk it up to my anxiety and take a deep breath, trying to convince myself I’m strong enough to handle the situation I am about to walk into.

I have to be. Shelby’s life depends on it.

Wrapping my fingers around the door handle, I turn it to try and open the door, but it’s locked. I make a fist to knock on the door, but it flies open before I get a chance to make contact. A hand reaches out and grabs me, and the shock of it takes away my ability to see him clearly. Once I’m in his grasp, he pulls me inside and backs me up against the wall.

His face doesn’t register properly at first, and I feel the same way I did when I woke up this morning and looked at the clock. Whether it’s my eyes or my brain playing tricks on me, Blake looks a little different than I remember. It was dark in the bar when I saw him weeks ago, and it was almost a year before that when I saw him last. Surely he’s changed a bit over the past nine months.

As he speaks, I can feel his hot, acrid breath on my skin.

“Hello, Chloe.”

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