said. “You figured it out. Too bad you’re not going to be able to tell anyone.” He leveled his gun at Real Gilroy and smiled at Teri. “So considerate of you to tie him up for me. Really saved me some trouble.”
“Kids,” Real Gilroy said, his voice relaxed and steady. “I want you to think about my password, okay? Say it to yourselves when I tell you, then run.”
“I don’t think so,” Dimitri snapped. “That pint-sized thief stole my diamonds and I’m getting them back.”
“One problem.” Real Gilroy’s voice was as calm as ever, but Teri could see that he’d gotten one of his hands free. While he was speaking deliberately and slowly, his hands were working furiously. It was some of the best acting she had ever seen. “There are six of us, and one of you.”
“What—” Dimitri started.
“Now!” Real Gilroy yelled. Teri remembered his password, counted to four, then grabbed Parker and Chris, and saw Dustin grab Daryl. They sprinted past Dimitri, who was whirling around, trying to figure out what was happening.
They made it through the door, and Teri looked back just in time to see Real Gilroy rip his arms free.
And then, a second later, to see Dimitri shoot him, right in the chest.
CHAPTER 26
Kat
Grand Central,” the cabdriver said, pulling up behind the taxi line. “Cash or credit?”
“Cash,” I said, digging in my pocket for what was left of the thirty dollars Cary had given me. It turned out that taking cabs from the theater district down to the Gansevoort, then back up to Grand Central, added up. I started to count it out, then hesitated. “If I give you a truly excellent tip, can you break a hundred?”
The cabdriver turned around, like he was considering it. “Twenty-five percent and done.”
“Great,” I said, feeling relief flood through me. Now I wouldn’t have to worry—I would have more than enough to get a train ticket and get a taxi back to Teri’s, just in case Stevie wasn’t going to be there waiting for me.
I didn’t know if she was going to be there. I was hoping she would be. But either way, I had to go and see.
The driver handed me back my change, minus his tip, and I knocked on the glass partition. “Pleasure doing business.”
“Receipt?”
“No, I’m good,” I said, opening the door. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” he said, already pressing a button on his meter to clear my fare away and get ready for the next person he was going to pick up. I looked at it for just a second—not at zero, but at two-fifty, because New York—and felt, in that moment, just how many different stories there were in this city. He’d go off and pick someone else up, someone else either having the best or worst night of their life—or possibly both, like mine had been—or just a night, barely thought of again, one of thousands that all blended together. “You good?” he asked, startling me out of these thoughts.
“Uh-huh,” I said, sliding out and slamming the door behind me. I stepped out into the cold night air, and the snow that was gently falling. The cab pulled back out into traffic, and a moment later I couldn’t even tell it apart any longer, one cab mixing in with dozens. I was a little early, so I paused outside on the sidewalk and looked up. It was snowing, after all, and I was in New York City. You couldn’t not take a moment to appreciate it.
But you can only stand for so long in the snow before it stops being cinematic and starts being cold. I turned to walk over to the doors when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was a guy getting off a scooter, taking off his helmet, and looking around. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew that I knew him. And who else would be wearing a brown leather jacket? “Cary?”
He turned around, and surprise and nervousness seemed to be mingling equally on his face. “Hi,” he said, setting his helmet on his seat and then starting to walk over to me. Then, a second later, he turned back and locked the helmet in the back compartment. He ran his hands through his hair as he walked up to me, and I could see he had changed his jeans for dark pants. The snow was falling on his jacket, on his hair.