Page 134 of Made in Love and Blood

Mostly.

“I could call—”

“No,” he snapped harshly.

Carina nodded quickly. “Okay, I won’t.”

The silence grew in the room, strangling him.

She spoke first. “He didn’t know it was me.”

“He did after.”

“You can’t even say his name, how are you going to call him, Sal?” she asked.

He didn’t know, but he also didn’t have a choice.

17. — ODs and ironies...

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Chicago, Illinois

Frankie, Sybaris Hotel

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A soft snore to Frankie’s left hammered straight through whatever dream she couldn’t remember as she woke up. Her eyelashes fluttered, and flashes of a bright pink sign against gray metal blinked back at her.

Neon Rage.

The more she blinked, the farther that sign moved. Until her vision cleared to distinguish the pillow smooshed against her face. That snoring, strange and not familiar, continued beside her. She tried to move, but her limbs felt heavy.

Somewhere, a bang echoed.

“Room Service!” someone shouted.

Now when she blinked more, she fully remembered the sign at an underground club in Lower Lower Wacker. She stepped off the plane in Chicago with Nico, and a world she hadn’t known existed just fell into her hands. A city made up of old buildings and modern life. It didn’t stink like New York. A grungy undercurrent existed here that she had not found at home.

He asked what she wanted to do. She said anything.

The sound of trickling water filled the room, reminding her of the private pool attached to the suite Nico had brought her to some time...she couldn’t remember. The sun had come up, peeking between towering buildings, and exposing the city to her for the first time in the light.

The hotel was—

The banging started again.

Frankie’s head snapped that way, over the body beside her in bed.

“Room Service!”

Hadn’t Nico told her that the hotel staff wouldn’t bother them unless they called down for something? His cousin made the reservation, and it wasn’t even under their name.

She hadn’t called down.

“Just open the fucking door,” demanded another voice.

Darker. Male.