Page 32 of Refrain

She frowns and tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t let go until her fingers finally curl, snagging the bills.

“My place. You remember how to get there?”

She nods. “Why?”

“Stick around here for an hour at least. There’s a convenience store on Fifth. Get some hair dye. Some scissors. Whatever else you think our friend needs. Meet me back at the house. Don’t come in through the front—only the back. Got it?”

She’s still holding the money. The wind tears at it, threatening to snatch the whole lot from her hands. “And if I don’t?”

“Get those stitches out in ten days.” I turn back to Domi and grab for her arm.

She’s already swaying on her feet, and I feel something that might be pity—she’s in for a rough trip. I’ll have to take the long way back through the city. We’re only a few steps away when Yellow’s voice reaches me.

“You would really trust me?”

I stop walking. Trust? “This is the part where I threaten you to keep your mouth shut, I guess.”

Arno would.

I sense rather than see her nod.

“Typically,” she says.

My cigarette’s almost out. I’ll need another. “Buy me a pack of smokes while you’re at it. If not…see ya around.”

She should be able to find her way out of the Russians’ reach on her own. If there’s one thing Yellow seems to be an expert at, it’s running.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHLOE

I should takethe money and run. I keep telling myself that, even as my feet carry me farther from freedom. My arms ache, weighed down by several grocery bags. Juggling them takes most of my energy as I set my sights on my destination and choke down my doubt.

The house at the end of the block looks deserted, but when I circle around it, I find a rickety gate unlocked. A concrete stoop leads to the back door, nestled beneath a worn awning. I mount the steps and knock once. Not even a second later, it opens from the inside.

“I see you decided to join our little party after all.” Espisido appears in the doorway, and I bite my lower lip at his expression. His narrowed eyes betray suspicion, and they probe the shadows at the edge of the property before he steps aside. “Come in.”

They’ve eaten again. A box of pizza contains two remaining slices. There’s no sign of Domi in the narrow kitchen, but a faucet is running deeper inside the house.

“I see someone went shopping,” Espisido remarks, drawing my attention back to him.

I press the bags into his hands.

He rummages through each, one by one. When he spots a new pack of cigarettes, his lips split into a genuine grin. “You’re a lifesaver.”

I shrug the gratitude off. “Those things will give you cancer, you know.”

If anything, his grin widens more. Pearly-white teeth serve as the basis for the breathtaking expression. I almost can’t tell where it ends and the wariness he hides so well underneath begins.

“Cancer, maybe,” he says. “But not an aneurysm any time soon, and that’s all that matters to me.”

He might be onto something. There are worse vices he could choose—if he hasn’t already.

“Domi!” he calls, raising his voice. “Let’s get you pretty.”

A door opens down the hall—the one to the bathroom, I presume. A woman steps out, wearing only an oversized T-shirt, with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. She sizes me up in a single glance. “You came back.”

“Fire Engine Red,” Espisido reads from a box of hair dye before I can say anything in return. “What do you think?” He tosses the box to Domi as she pads closer.

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