Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“Get yourself packed,” I said. “I’ve got a place we can go.”
She nodded. I could see the reluctance in her eyes. I kissed her again then stood.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I’m sure. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Vincent won’t be happy. Like you said, it’ll be worse for you than for me.”
“I know that. But if shit goes down here, it’ll be the opposite, and I’m not taking that risk.” I walked to the door before she could argue. “Get packed. We’re sneaking out soon.”
I stepped into the hall and shut the door behind me. I lingered there, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out.
Chances were slim that Joey wasn’t full of shit. Even if the Dusters were doing some real damage to the Leone family, I couldn’t imagine that they’d be stupid enough to make a big move on this goddamn fortress. Still, it happened before, a while back, but the city remembered. I couldn’t take the risk, not with Amber, not for any reason.
I could handle Vincent’s wrath. I couldn’t handle Amber getting hurt.
I went into the living room and started gathering up my stuff, mentally going over how we’d escape without getting caught the instant we stepped foot outside.
14
Amber
Ren led me down a back staircase, in through a kitchen, then out a back door. We walked fast down an alley that spit us out onto a busy sidewalk, and from there he hustled me into a crowd of people, then down a few side streets, before finally slowing down around Broad. He looked around and held his hand up, squinting at the faces around us, then gave a frustrated grunt and shook his head.
“I don’t think we were followed.”
“Pretty easy then.” I tried to smile at him. He took my hand and ran his fingers over my knuckles.
“That was just the first step. Come on, let’s go check out my place.”
“Where do you live, anyway?”
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips as we walked. He looked back over his shoulder and made a few quick turns, jogging for a few steps, tugging me along, then slowing down and looking behind us. I had the feeling he was trying to trick anyone following into running after us, but if there was someone back there, they didn’t fall for it.
“I’ve got a few places,” he said as we headed down Twentieth. “You know, a few little nests.”
“How can you afford multiple apartments?”
“I’m a very successful thief.”
“Still. This isn’t exactly a cheap place to live.”
He laughed. “I buy them then rent them out. The people that live in them know I can show up at any second. The deal is, they pay the bare minimum, and I can crash in the spare room whenever I want. Works out, since I rarely ever need to.”
“So we’re about to crash someone’s life?”
“I thought about that, but no. I figure I don’t want to drag any of my tenants into this. No, you’re getting a real treat.”
“What’s that?”
“My actual apartment.” He grinned at me and picked up his pace.
I had to halfway jog to keep up with his long strides. The deeper south we got, the bigger his smile became. The streets had fewer trees, and the houses were all the same: brick front, simple stoop, big doorway. The streets weren’t as crowded, but there were more young people around, more families sitting out on stoops. Center City was where all the rich people lived, but South Philly had a world unto itself, and a lot of charm. I liked the old ladies sitting under tiny awnings on their small porches drinking from bagged bottles of something, I couldn’t tell, and the guys hanging out on street corners listening to music and laughing about whatever. Ren seemed more at ease too, like his world started as soon as we left the richer neighborhoods.
That was probably true. From what he told me, he grew up down here, and lived his whole life on these streets. He wasn’t a part of the Leone family, and didn’t have some fancy gang behind him. Whatever Ren had, he had it because he earned it, or he took it, but either way.
We turned onto a quiet block with cars parked up against the curb. He slowed as we reached one particular house, the stoop leading up to a dark blue door, the windows covered with bars. He hesitated for a second before walking up the stairs and taking a door key from his back pocket.
“Welcome to my house,” he said, unlocking the door and pushing it open.
I stepped inside and looked around. It was a normal place, a couch on the right, TV mounted on the wall, kitchen table and bookshelves and a few framed sports posters hung on the walls. I didn’t know what I expected—maybe some kind of stash house, with empty pizza boxes all over the place—but this was meticulously clean, and it smelled like rose petals as soon as I stepped inside.