He turns his attention to Bobby, giving him the order. “She gets released.”
They share a look, one I don’t understand and don’t care to read into. “Released” could mean a slew of things. Death—let go permanently, just as it sounds. Or released into another family’s care to get the money from. So many other options as well, and none I want to think about.
“We should get something in a few hours,” Danny says upon his return.
The silence stretches between us till I break it with a question that’s been buzzing in my head for a while.
“When did you decide to bug my office?”
Danny shrugs. “Someone mentioned that you were gone a lot from the office lately.”
I huff at that. Of course Danny would see taking time off as slacking on the job. I guess it worked if we caught the thief.
“Remind me to never take days off again.”
“Days off are overrated.” Bobby snorts, and Danny agrees with a nod.
“Now, now, time away can be enlightening. With Tommy out, Danny found a way to get evidence. It workedout,” Vinny says, always trying to make it work for all parties involved.
I hate it, but I still offer a nod in agreement. “Thanks, I guess. Glad you were able to do my job for me.” My sarcasm isn’t wasted on them, as they all chuckle a bit. Well, Danny huffs, and I’ll take it for a belly laugh. Till he speaks again.
“Don’t thank me. Dante was the one with the idea. I just ran with it in the only way I know how—moresurveillance.”
Chapter 32—Payton
Ihave an hour. That’s how much time they gave me to clean my stuff out of Tommy’s place. One hour to collect everything. Honestly? I haveonebag. The rest is clothes he bought. Things he had for me. Things I don’t want.
I don’t want a single reminder of him, of this place. Of what happened and what I felt. I want nothing.
With careful eyes on me, the men assigned to “help” me gather my stuff watch as I grab my bag, stuff what I own into it, and then leave the room. I make it as far as the dining room before I go to the kitchen and pull out a notepad I once saw him put in a drawer. I write him a note. One word only.
Sorry.
Sorry for what he thought. Sorry that I was here. Sorry we ever met.
Sorry for thinking any of it was real.
Tears drip onto the paper, and it angers me. I shouldn’t be saying I’m sorry. I did nothing wrong. Nothing.
The old me would apologize. But I’m different now.
I’m not her anymore.
I can’t be the same girl I once was. The one who relied on others to be strong. I have to be strong on my own.
I tear the paper off the notepad and crumple it before tossing it into the trash.
Then I leave. I ride the elevator down with two guards and walk out the entrance we used to drive through. No one stops me. No one follows. They just make sure I go.
And I do. I only look back once to make sure no one is coming for me.
The sun is still rising, but it hasn’t burned off the cold yet. I almost regret taking off his sweater and leaving it on the bed. I kept the rest of my outfit on, but not his sweater. Something that was deliberately his. I should have taken the rest off, too, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I don’t have a coat to keep me warm. No money. No place to go. Barely enough clothes to last a week.
But there’s one place I know that has what I need. Well, at least a sweater.
It’s not much, but my gear is at the club. The sweats I wore last time might still be where I left them. I took them off after my last performance and never went back for them after my first dance for Tommy. When I came on his fingers from watching Trixie with some client on the cameras. He just picked me up, got me to his office, and then we left. I never went back to the changing room.
That was a lifetime ago.
