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Mine.
“I don’t know. Did you see the guards follow?” I ask, sorting over what she could possibly be doing. I’m angry, and I’m not entirely sure why. All I know is I hate her errands already, and I don’t even know what she is doing.
“Da. They were confused, but followed after her.”
“Call them. I want to know where she is,” I demand, and Nik takes out his phone.
“Yes. Where is she? I see … Okay, I’ll let him know.” Nik moves the phone away from his ear and relays the information to me. “She got on the subway. Headed to the Bronx.”
What?
Why is she headed there?
“Tell them to stay with her. I want an address texted immediately.”
Nik repeats my sentiment and hangs up the phone. Ten minutes later, Nik’s phone dings and he pulls up the address.
357 Turn St.
Nik maps the location. “It’s a fourteen-unit apartment building. Damn, that’s a rough exterior.”
My stomach drops; why is Kate there? Another ding on Nik’s phone goes off.
“Says she met with a realtor, touring an apartment that is available,” he says, reading the message. I grind my teeth together.
“Who owns the building?” I ask. Nik clicks around before saying the company’s name, and I’m flooded with instant relief. The Irish own many of the buildings in the Bronx. Even though they have low numbers in this city, most living in Boston. Our alliance allows them to have business here if their numbers are kept low. The company Nik mentions is one of the Irish’s and it will take one phone call.
“Call Kieran.” I bark the order, not caring how it sounds.
“Why?” Nik asks.
“Just do it.”
Chapter43
Kate
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I huff to Lindsey. I severely underestimated the time the subway would take. I have become used to Ivan’s driving in this city and how quickly you can get around.
“It’s no issue.” She beams at me, her reddish-brown hair whipping in the wind. “Let’s go take a look.”
The building is less than appealing, with chipped paint and overgrown flower boxes hanging off the windows. My stomach clenches as I study the surrounding buildings, which aren’t much better. This was the only unit available in my price range that hasn’t been rented yet, and I’m in a pinch.
“This is a studio apartment, five hundred square feet, water and heat included, but you have to get your own electric and internet,” she says, unlocking a unit on the third floor. The air is musty, and a foul odor wafts to my nose.
When the door swings open, the air in the apartment is no better. Concrete floors greet me. They are cold and drab, but at least there is no carpet that could be harboring the next plague. The mini kitchen has a small fridge and a single sink with a cabinet beneath it. A small cooktop sits on the counter, and that is it. I glance around, taking in the space—it will have to do.
A phone rings behind me.
“I’m sorry. I need to take this. Feel free to keep looking around,” Lindsey says, stepping out.
I offer her a smile, content to walk around the space on my own anyway. The window is tattered and I notice the torn plastic blinds hanging unevenly. Out the window, which is half blocked by an overgrown window box, is the bustling street view. People are milling about and a few kids are playing on the sidewalks. It’s quiet enough, I guess.
My thoughts drift to Ilena and how accustomed I’ve grown, even in such a short time, to her taking care of all the household chores. I was, by no means, opposed to doing these things myself, but every time I tried to help her, she would shoo me away.
I take a few steps to the left and let myself into the bathroom. Only a pocket door separates the bathroom from the rest of the studio, and it’s about the size of an airplane lavatory. At least it’s clean. I exhale a sigh of relief that the facilities don’t have an unbearable smell.
“I’m sorry about that.” Lindsey lets herself back into the apartment.
