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Ending the call, I lean against the precinct wall. I take a deep breath and try to figure out what to do next. If the security footage shows a cop passing this kid the blade, it means they knew what was going to happen, and they went along with it.
I guess Luca really has an influence within the NYPD.
This just confirms what I already fucking knew. He and Harry were clearly into something that he didn’t want us to discover. He couldn’t trust him enough not to cave under pressure, and it must be big if he’s willing to trust a junkie kid to do the deed.
But what?
I feel the disappointment rain down on me hard, pissed off I couldn’t kill Harry myself. Take my time, slice off his fingers, followed by his hands, take each arm…..
Mulling it over in my head, my phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts.
Summer?
Glancing at the screen, I see Jimmy’s name. A flicker of disappointment runs through me, but I hit answer.
Letting out a heavy breath, I hold the phone to my ear.
“Jimmy, it’s...”
“Bhodi, the fucking apartment is on fire.”
The statement paralyzes me. I can feel the blood draining from my body.
“What?” I bite back.
“Summer called me. It went to voicemail. I heard gunshots and got a call from the security company. The fucking place is on fire, Bhodi! They’ve called 911, but I’m heading there now.”
I can hear Jimmy running through his apartment, the door slamming behind him as he heads to Summers. But I can’t move, I’m fucking drowning. I can hear my heart thundering in my ears, anger clouding my vision. I try to force my feet to move, but they won’t. The only thought running through my mind continues to cruelly taunt me.
You should have answered the call.
