“No, I’ve been hiding at a friend’s place. But I think they figured out where I am.”
“Huh, that sucks.”
“Come on, man. You provide protection, and I need it. You gotta help me.”
“If you need protection from the cartel, call up Mr. Anonymous. He’ll know what to do.”
Peter groans. “I made him up. It was me with an altered voice.”
“Of course it was.”
“So, you’re gonna help me, right?”
“Nope. You want protection, call the police.” I end the call.
I guess Peter wasn’t with Myers. Which means Myers is still out there somewhere, free. If he ever returns to the United States, he’ll be arrested. I can only hope he comes back.
I pick up my pace and head into the building. Normally, I wouldn’t surprise Savvy at work like this, but it’s near the end of the day, and I really need to see her after everything that happened.
When the elevator doors open to her floor, I step off and spot her. She is smiling and finishing off a glass of champagne. That must mean the deal closed. She had been working on the largest commercial sale of her career.
She spots me and hands her glass to someone next to her. Then she runs toward me.
“I did it!” She jumps into my arms.
I catch her and swing her around.
“Congratulations! We need to celebrate!”
“Just what I was thinking. Wait, did someone call you? Is that why you’re here? You already knew?”
I shake my head. “No, I wanted to see you.” I want to tell her about Stacy, but not now.
“Okay, let me grab my things, and then we can head out.”
Once we’re outside, I take her hand in mine. “What would you like to do?”
She grins. “I want to get a cake and a slice of pizza to go.”
“To go? You don’t want to go out to dinner?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I want to celebrate with you at home.”
Home. I love how that sounds. Last month, she asked me to move into her place, and I agreed. It’s closer to work, although not by much. We decided to make my place a rental, and I have tenants moving in next week. My sister has been a bit skeptical, but fortunately, she keeps that to herself.
“What kind of cake?” I ask.
She turns and walks backward so she can face me. “A really big one!”
I laugh. She leads us to a cake shop that I’m surprised is still open. The smell inside is heavenly.
“They have my favorite here. It’s called a Brooklyn Blackout cake. It’s all chocolate. You’ll love it.”
She requests the cake, and I pay for it, despite her protests.
“I’ll probably eat the majority of it anyway,” I explain.
Her eyes widen. “You will not!”
