All Souls' Night - Renee Rose Page 0,308

9

Sitting at the bus station, I watched the sun set, turning the sky pink and purple and eventually midnight blue. Eyes darting everywhere, I’m now pacing the bus station terminal in a secluded corner. I wipe my sweaty palms on my yoga pants, my stomach a roiling mess. The view of the floor-to-ceiling windows over the internet privacy cubicles affords me a view of the front entrance so I can see when Zoe approaches, but I’m hidden from most of the spacious bus station lobby.

I pull my phone out of my sweatshirt pocket and glance at it for the tenth time in as many minutes. The glass reads 7:24 p.m. I told Zoe to meet here at seven-thirty, so I’m trying to be patient, but I navigate to the map app again to check on her progress. We both turned on the GPS to our phones so we could keep track of each other at any time. But her dot is still at the same spot she’s been for five minutes. I had zoomed in to see where she was and, though the dot showing her location was at what seemed to be some kind of warehouse, it was next to a convenience store. I just assumed she was hiding in the warehouse, trying to keep out of sight, waiting for an Uber, like I had done getting to the bus station.

The plan was this: I bought bus tickets online so we could get out of town as soon as possible. Then I hoofed it to the nearest grocery store, where I withdrew the max amount of money I could get from the bank ATM, which wasn’t a lot, but enough to get us on the road. Because of Zoe’s emergency stash money, which she packed when she went with Armando, we have a few thousand dollars between us.

I told Zoe to be sure she stayed in the public eye as much as possible. Phil was ballsy, but he wasn’t stupid enough to grab her with witnesses around. And I also told her to call the cops if she saw him or his lackey prowling around. They might not be able to put him away, but at least she’d be somewhat protected.

I grabbed an Uber to the station to wait for Zoe. With any luck, we’d be catching the Greyhound out of the city toward New Orleans at eight-fifteen, leaving Phil behind.

Now, I look at the time—7:26 p.m.—and the map app. She’s still at the warehouse.

Why are you still on the other side of town? I text her. Are you okay? I’m already at the bus station.

My phone rings a few moments later. It’s Zoe.

“What’s happening? Where are you?” I ask.

“Karina? I don’t understand. I thought you said you had to ditch your phone because of Big Tony, and we had to meet at the warehouse to regroup.”

My sneakers squeak on the tile as I halt. “What are you talking about? I said bus station, seven-thirty.”

“Later, I got a text message from an unknown number.” The pitch of her voice climbs as she goes into panic mode. “It said Big Tony found you and you had to toss your phone, so you got a burner.”

I white-knuckle my smartphone. “Get out of there, now! That wasn’t me! Zoe, run!”

“Oh, my God! Okay!” She gasps, then screams and the call drops.

“Zoe!” With shaking hands, I try to call her back, but it immediately goes to voicemail. “Shit!” I thumb through my contacts for the club.

“Club Toxic, how can I help you?”

“Roxy?”

“Yeah, who is this?”

“Karina! Is Armando there? This is an emergency. Zoe’s in trouble.”

“Hold on.”

I pace, tears streaming down my cheeks. I peek around the privacy cubicle and some people are staring me down with confusion in their gazes. I’m about to disregard them when a plume of smoke curls toward the ceiling. Who the fuck is smoking inside the station?

“This is Armando. Where is Zoe?”

“She’s at a warehouse a few blocks from Toxic. Give me your cell number and I’ll text you the address. God, I think Phil’s caught up with her.” He gives me his cell, which I jot down on my palm with the handy pen at the cubicle, and we hang up. I copy the address from the map app and paste it into my message app, texting Armando’s phone number, adding a final message to contact me as soon as he’s with her. SEND.

My heart jumps as the jarring fire alarm screeches over my head.

“Fire!” One of