Play Mine (Brooklyn Dawn #3) - Cari Quinn Page 0,4

landed on the “in case of fire” glass box attached to the wall. I didn’t know what it was called or if it even worked the same way as it had when I was in school, but I yanked on the lever and pulling out the handled blade inside.

I didn’t think. Didn’t give my frenetic mind a chance to reason my way out of this. I just whacked at the door until the glass broke and alarms blared and I could shove my arm through the broken glass and wave my pass over the sensor.

The lock unsnicked and I burst into the alley, gasping for breath as if I’d run miles. My gaze pingponged around the narrow space until I oriented myself enough to glimpse the street at the opposite end. A yellow cab was chugging by and I sprinted toward it, shouting like an idiot over the still-screaming alarm as I flagged down the cabbie.

The older man stopped the car and rolled down his passenger window, his forehead puckered with a frown. “Hey, lady, you okay?”

“No. I’m not. I need a ride. Please.”

“Okay, okay, lady. Where to?”

Biting my lip, I hesitated. I’d never been to Cooper’s place. Now that I thought about it, that didn’t make much sense. We were tight. He was my best friend other than Ricki, and she was so busy with her own band and her husband and probably endless baby practice that we rarely saw each other lately.

But Cooper and I were in close quarters all the time. Onstage, on the bus, and otherwise. Through strain and weirdness and late nights of bad diner food and stupid jokes I doubted anyone else would get.

He was my center.

The sound of sirens got my mouth going even as my brain rebelled. I couldn’t run away. I’d caused property destruction. It didn’t matter I hadn’t meant to.

God, I hated being the woman who ran to a man. I’d promised myself I never would do that again. But everything felt like it was on the line. My safety. My life. My position in the band.

And no one had a cooler head during times of crisis—self-created or not—than Coop.

I rattled off Cooper’s address and didn’t quite understand the cabbie’s wolf whistle. I mean, yeah, Coop lived on the Upper West Side near Central Park, and no, he wasn’t hurting for cash. None of us were, but he’d been with the band far longer than I had. Just…whoa. The cabbie looked seriously dazzled.

Being impressed with Coop’s digs was the last thing on my mind. I was so overwhelmed and afraid I’d lose my spot in the band—never mind the property damage I’d have to pay for and possible criminal charges—that I couldn’t do anything but press my flaming hot face against the cool windowpane.

The car was muggy. Stifling. The AC didn’t seem to even reach the back, although that could’ve been my terror keeping my temperature in overdrive and my heart racing.

Go me for changing it up from being perpetually freezing during times of stress.

And flights from justice. God.

By the time we reached Coop’s building, I was practically numb. I juggled the sticks I still clutched and shoved money at the cabbie, far more than I should have. He tried to hand some back, probably thinking I needed it more than he did.

I didn’t check out the huge spear of a building climbing toward a sky now edging toward dawn, the balance teetering between the darkest part of the night and the hope of another sunrise. My opulent surroundings only registered after I passed through an elaborate security setup with a pair of unsmiling guards into a foyer so white and gleaming I was nearly blinded.

I wasn’t in my comfortably rundown brownstone anymore.

The cool-eyed older man behind the desk eyed me like he would a discarded condom wrapper. “Good evening. Welcome to The Edgemont. Do you have business in this building?”

Suddenly, I wasn’t at all sure I did. I didn’t have a spot with anyone.

Certainly not here.

Two

I stuffed my AirPods into my ears as the elevators opened on the ground floor. Noise-cancelling technology was the best invention ever made. I tapped my watch to turn the music on and the driving beats to my running playlist roared to life.

I paused in the lobby to stretch out my hamstrings. The temperature difference from my place and the killer heat in June was always the best way to get me cramping. Then again, that might allow me to actually feel something. I