Chapter 9
Sly
Saying goodbye to Ridgewood is bittersweet.
In every way, this city became my home. The people in it became my family.
Yesterday, we laid one of our brothers to rest. Every member of the Sinners Warlord and their families showed Preston respect by attending his funeral. Among the attendees were officers from the Ridgewood Police Department, and all the staff members from Andromeda, the bar the Sinners live above.
The service was short, but I have no doubt it was everything Preston would have hoped it’d be. Myself, as well as five other Sinners—Preston’s cousin Nixon included—were pallbearers.
Burying Preston felt like a door closing on my time in Ridgewood. I’d had the week after being discharged from the hospital to spend time with my closest friends here, and now it is time for me to leave.
As I stare out at the tarmac in front of me, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Reaching down, I see Sully’s name flash across the screen as it rumbles in my hand.
I debate not answering, already feeling irritable from the day. My mood is somber, bordering on anger from the circumstances surrounding Preston’s death that I cannot bring myself to let goof. The phone continues to vibrate in my hold, and though my gut tells me to send it to voicemail, I answer, unable to ignore my best friend.
“Sully,” I greet, cupping my free hand over my other ear to barricade some of the noise from the plane’s engine. “This isn’t a great time. I’m on the tarmac.”
“You’re coming back?”
“Sì. I land early tomorrow.”
“Good. That’s good, man.”
His voice sounds off—strained. Like there is something he needs to say, but is avoiding it.
Movement catches my eye, and I look up to see a flight attendant standing in the open doorway of the plane. She gives me a small wave, beaming at me from the top of the stairs that lead up to the small private jet I booked, signaling it's time to leave.
“They’re waiting for me to board. Say what is on your mind, amico.”
From the other end of the call, I can hear the rustling of paperwork. He must be at the office late.
Sully lets out a short groan. “I ran into Vinnie a couple days ago.”
“And?” I begin climbing the stairs toward the grinning stewardess. I’m not surprised he ran into Vinnie—Manhattan is huge, but also incredibly small.
“She—uh, she was acting strange. When I said hi, she was really dodgy. Almost like she was hiding something.”
“Okay?” I’m not sure where he’s going with this. There are many reasons why she could have acted awkwardly. It may have been as simple as she was having an off day.
Regardless, my time to speak to Sully is running out. He needs to tell me the point of his phone call, and quickly.
“I don’t know, Sly. She kept playing with her necklace. Touching it absentmindedly as she looked around the market, avoiding eye contact with me. She seemed nervous and jumpy.”
The mention of a necklace garners my attention as I sit in one of the plush seats on the aircraft. As I lean back against the cushions, the stewardess steps up into my line of sight and mouths,“Would you like anything to drink?”
I shake my head, giving her a quick smile to be friendly, then turn my attention back to the conversation, my heart rate accelerating as my mind races and gravitates to the worst of thoughts.
“Did she seem like she was in danger?”
“No. Maybe? I don’t think so—it was just almost like she was afraid someone would see us together, but there was a moment where I tried to touch her shoulder and she flinched…she also bent to pick something up and… Can we actually talk in person when you get back? Maybe I’m overexaggerating things.”
My brows furrow, the entire conversation confusing me more with every word that flows from his mouth. I cannot think of a reason as to why she would be afraid to be seen with Sully. Aside from August, Sullivan Rochester is considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Manhattan and comes from a very powerful family. If anyone saw them together, they probably wouldn’t give it a second thought considering whosheis too. But her behavior just seems not like her, and I can’t help but think the worst.
“Maybe it was just because of who I am? She knows we’re friends,” he offers.
My mind considers it, though deep in my center there is a nagging pit that grows. “Perhaps. You did not notice anyone else in the store with her?”
