4
Sage
Myheartpoundedfromthe quick climb up three flights of stairs. Who was I kidding? It had nothing to do with the cardio and everything to do with the encounter with my new neighbor.
I unlocked my door with trembling hands and dumped my bag next to the small dining table where Lettie sat with textbooks and a notepad.
Without lifting her eyes, my roomie raised one finger while continuing to write what looked to be a page-long algebraic equation.
Lettie was some kind of mathematical genius, which was completely at odds with her emo dress style and lustrous jet-black hair cut in a chic blunt bob. Today’s black T-shirt was a loose, off-one-shoulder number withBook Boyfriends are Betteremblazoned on the front, and I didn’t have to guess it was paired with her favorite ripped black jeans and lace-up boots.
I braced my hands on the back of a dining chair opposite my petite friend and drummed my fingers against the pine.
Once she finished writing her mathematical mumbo jumbo with a hard-pressed period, Lettie’s eyes came to mine. “Hello, lovely,” she purred before tapping her pen on the notepad and studying me. “What’s got your cheeks all flushed and those big brown eyes so wide?”
I shook my head. “I’m losing my ever-loving mind.”
She batted her enhanced lashes, revealing smoky lids and winged eyeliner. Not that she needed it. Her Korean-American heritage had given her the most stunning pair of golden-brown eyes I’d ever seen. But Lettie was always meticulously made up. It didn’t matter if she was headed for an early lecture or clubbing until 4 a.m. I was a lip gloss and quick coat of mascara kind of girl, at least when I could be bothered. Stupidly, I wished I had today.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“I just freaked out and almost got myself killed. Okay, maybe notkilled, but I could’ve been badly hurt.”
She stood fast, her chair scraping over the tiles, then came toward me. “Are you all right? What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know. One minute I was standing on the sidewalk; the next there’s a motorcycle heading right for me, and I…I completely froze.” I shifted on my feet. “I thought the bike was coming for me.”
Lettie wrapped me in a firm embrace that belied her tiny frame, the fresh, minty scent of her gum washing over me. “Oh, honey. Your reaction is understandable. You’re a trauma survivor, and—” She pulled back and held me at arm’s length. “Wait.Wasthe bike coming for you?”
“No. The cops were chasing him through the streets. That’s all.”
“But you’re still spying on that club, aren’t you?” One brow lifted in suspicion. “Before you answer, I found a box of Vietnamese noodles in the refrigerator, so don’t even think about lying.” When I remained silent, Lettie’s stare hardened, and she gave me a shake. “I thought we agreed it was dangerous. You promised me you’d stop snooping around there.”
I wrestled out of her grip before her fingers left bruises on my arms. “I never promised. I said I’d think about it. All I’m doing is sitting at a restaurant across the street. It’s no big deal. And besides, I can defend myself.”
Lettie braced one hand on her cocked hip. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “You’ve only been obsessed with honing your skills at the firing range and learning how to beat the crap out of people for the last three years. You don’t think that’s a little strange?”
After the shooting, I never wanted to feel like a victim again, so I’d bought a couple of pistols, gotten lessons at the firing range, and learned martial arts for self-defense. But as my skills had developed, they’d also empowered me. My aim had improved, my muscles strengthened, and I didn’t balk at sparring with the most experienced guys at the gym. I wasn’t the terrified, timid woman from three years ago, and if some douchebag tried to mug me in the street, they’d be the one screaming for help.
Or would they? I’d just faced the first true test of my abilities and failed spectacularly. What good was knowing how to fight and shoot if my body didn’t move at the critical moment? I was so angry at my pathetic reaction.
“My therapist used to tell me it’s perfectly normal to want to protect yourself after going through a violent trauma.”
Lettie gave a caustic laugh. “I’m pretty sure she meant put extra locks on your door and get a big dog, not turn yourself into Lara Croft.” She folded her arms. “What happens if you find the shooter? Will you make a sensible decision or do something you’ll regret?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Put a bullet in his brain? A knife in his heart?”
I picked at the hem of my tank. “I don’t see how that would be regrettable.”
Ethical, wise Sage, the one who’d all but completed her criminology degree, should advocate for Kieran’s murderer to be put behind bars for life. But there was a part inside me, a darkness born from tragedy, that longed for eye-for-an-eye-style justice. Didn’t that lowlife piece of shit deserve to die a bloody, painful death like my boyfriend had?
Lettie stalked toward me. “That’s precisely what I’m talking about. What happens after you get your revenge? I’ll tell you,” she said before I could give a smart-ass answer. “The Wolf Street Mafia will track you down and finish what they failed to do three years ago. Is that what you want?” She shook her head. “Why don’t you care about what happens to you?”
“Because I need to make things right. At any cost.” Because it was my fault Kieran had been outside Romano’s store that day. And because it wasn’t fair that he’d died and I hadn’t. The least I could do with this shell of a life was avenge his death.
“There are people who care about you, Sage. People who would be devastated if anything happened to you.”