We stand outside of the car. With the freeway below us and a highway in front, the sound of passing cars surround us. The air is frigid, the traffic loud. Yet, the object hanging over the backseat of the SUV blasts out everything. We need to go, but I can't tear my eyes from it.

"What is that?" Chang yells from across the car's hood.

I can't even form words. I know. Not what, but who. A discolored arm hangs over the back seat from under a blue tarp. Even if I didn't recognize the watch on the wrist, there is only one person it can be. My driver. The man who'd taught me to drive. Five-hundred logged hours, hundreds of lattes, countless early morning drives, and his never-ending dry humor snaps like a camera flash before my mind's-eye. I want to lie in the gravel on the side of the road and cry until my eyes are waterless, but we have to move. Smith will surely double back at the next exit.

"Turn right," the GPS echoes.

Cars start piling up behind us. I have to get these two idiots to safety. I pull my gaze away from the arm. "Get back in the car."

"No!" Ping's face fills with horror.

The cars behind us honk.

"Get-in-the-car." I struggle to push him from behind. He shakes his head and pushes back. "Who do you think killed him?" I shout into his face.

Ping swallows. "I can't."

I let go of his jacket. "Chang, switch with Ping," I demand as a car comes around us. The man lays on his horn and gives us the finger. I resist giving it back.

"I'm not riding next to some dead guy," Chang screeches.

My hands bang on top of the car. "We're all going to be dead guys!" They just stare at me. I lose it. "Then both of you get in the fucking front seat right now!" I slam my door. If they aren't in the passenger seat in five seconds, I'm gone.

I end up giving them ten seconds to smash together and overlap one another in the seat. I take off with a squeal as the zip of seat belts sound. While speeding, weaving through traffic, and following the GPS directions, I also keep an eye on my rearview mirror. No sign of Smith yet. I refuse to think of the dead body in the back. I'll lose it if I do. Beyond freaked out, the butthead brothers are mute.

As more and more buildings have Chinese lettering, I dig through my bag for my sunglasses and ski hat, and hope no one spots me. "Okay, you two have to think of somewhere close I can park near your house not on the street."

Silence.

A glance at their blank faces makes me yell, "Think!"

"The-there is a parking lot near the Laundromat," Chang stammers.

I turn the GPS off. "Give me directions."

Down the second street, Ping flips on the heat.

I flip it off.

He reaches for the knob again. "It's cold."

I smack his hand. "Do you want to defrost the body?" I ask through clenched teeth. The revulsion on his face answers my question.

One more stoplight and the parking lot comes into view.

"Push it back under the tarp," I say.

They shake their heads at me.

With the SUV stopped and waiting to turn, I lock my jaw and reach behind me. Stiff, frosty, and rubbery skin lies under my fingertips. I draw in a deep breath through my nose and flip the arm under the tarp. Something inside of me cracks and my eyes water. I pull into the lot, toss my bag to whichever butthead catches it, say, "Get out the wallet in the front," and wipe the tears off my cheeks with my sleeve. When Chang passes the wallet, I roll down the window.

The old man in the booth takes my money for the initial fee, gives me a card, and points to the left.

"Is it in back?" I ask in a nasally voice. His wrinkled head snaps up in irritation. I persist. "I'd prefer a spot in back." He glances at the car and rolls his eyes but gives me a new letter combination. I don't bother to thank him.

I struggle to keep it together while driving through the rows of parked cars. In the last row, I find the spot and back the Mercedes within two inches from the building to hide the license plate.

When I get out, I smash my fist against the metal of the door. The pain across my knuckles feels so much better than the pain inside of me. Plus one more dent just adds to the others I've put in the car in the last hour. While I concentrate on the sting across my skin, the buttheads wait by the front of the car watching me with wary expressions.

I wipe my face one last time. "Let's go."

"What about the body?" Chang asks.

I glance at the back of the car. I've been attempting to ignore that problem. I want to ignore it. I force bravado and raise an eyebrow. "You want to move him now?"

Chang scowls. "I don't want to touch him."

"Then don't worry about it." I jerk my backpack on and head toward the Laundromat across the street. A pharmacy is next door. Good, I can get some supplies while one of the buttheads, who know their way around down there, makes sure the coast is clear because I need Jai's help for one more thing before I take off. Being a criminal, he should know how to dump a body. "Come on, I'll take care of it later."

I stroll across the street with a swagger. Inside I'm quivering. I have to get rid of the body and get out of New York or I fear I'll be dead too.

Chapter 25*Snow.

After Ping sends the all clear text, Chang and I slink into the basement from the Laundromat. I follow him through the shadows while every little sound has me almost jumping and running. Relief fills me as we enter the room with the cabinet. But when Chang swings the door inside of the cabinet open, my eyes bulge from their sockets. Jai stands in the opening. Behind him, Smith holds a gun to his head. How did he find us? How the hell did beat me here?

With eyes as wide as mine, Chang leans on me for support.

My legs twitch with the desire to run, and I'm honestly thinking about taking off. I search Jai's expressionless eyes. "Are you all right?"

His face is stiff, but he nods.

"Get in here," Smith shouts.

My knees almost buckle as I remember thinking anything would beat his monotone. I'm dead wrong. Pun true, though not intended.

"Yes, please do," Mali says from her spot on the table.

My knees do buckle and I grab the doorframe. Dressed in thousands of dollars of fashion and sitting under a naked light bulb, she looks out of place in the drab room. A strange mix of contempt, triumph, and glee etch her perfect features. Still staring at her with round eyes, shock and unbelief bubble inside of me at the thought my stepmother orchestrated this whole thing. Any doubt that she's behind all of this dies in an instant. Feeling like I've been kicked in the teeth, my fingers dig into the door frame before I collapse onto the cement.

She uncrosses her legs. "Hurry, your friends have been waiting."

Her flippant tone has blood rushing to my temples. Anger replaces shock. I push away from the frame and point to Jai then Chang. "They have nothing to do with this. Let them go."

Mali rises. "Nivea, my dear, your actions have invited them to our little party." She sprays her fingers out and makes a point of appearing bored while inspecting her nails. "Now get in here before I have Smith shoot your friends one by one while you watch."

Three dead bodies like the one in the SUV flash through my mind, weigh on my heart. Even Jai, the kidnapper, doesn't deserve to die for her...greed? I rush inside. "You want me." I notice Ping along the wall tied to a metal chair. Gray tape covers his mouth and rope winds around his wrists. "Let them go," I repeat while Smith pulls Chang in and kicks the door shut.

Mali rubs a nail. "You're not in a position to make demands."

I swallow the lump of fear in my throat. "If you killed me, who would believe them?"

"If only it were so easy." Her eyes narrow. "I would have slit your throat long ago." Her smile and the glint in her sinister eyes cause me to flinch more than her words. Pure malice spews out of her. She wants to torment me. She finds joy in it. "Now," she nods at Smith, "let's get on with this."

Smith shoves Jai to the floor. I bend to help him, but Smith yanks me so hard that my bag falls to the floor. He snarls into my face, "Listen bitch, I've had enough of-"

"Don't touch her like that!" Mali shouts and Smith lets go of my arm. "I told you no unnecessary marks." She snatches the gun from Smith's hand and throws him a wad of rope. "Tie her up. The rest of you can have a seat." The gun points toward the row of chairs where Ping sits.

"What are you going to do to them?" I ask as Smith pulls the last chair across the floor for me.

Her eyes flicker to Jai sitting down. "He'll be delivered with the reward. I believe his employers have a bone to pick with him. The other two?" She smiles wickedly. "Dead boys tell no tales."

Harrison's lifeless body flashes before my eyes. I lunge at her. "No!"

Smith pushes me down so hard it jars my spine. From beyond his black form, I hear Mali say mockingly, "Just what are you going to do, Nivea?"

Desperate now, I crane my neck around Smith and beg. "I can disappear. We can all disappear. You can have the money!"

Her hand digs through the purse on the table while the gun stay pointed at the row of chairs. "Tape her stupid mouth shut." She tosses a roll of duct tape to Smith. He rips a mangled piece off with a long knife. I rear back when he tries to slap tape across my mouth. "Do you want me to shoot one of them now?" Mali asks. I freeze. "Put out your hands out for him."

Drawing in anger though my nose, I refuse to watch Smith wrap rope around my wrists. I can almost feel the hate rolling off the black clad asshole. My gaze finds the floor. Guilt has my temples throbbing. I can't look at Mali or the gun in her hands. Dead boys tell no tales. I can't look at Ping or Chang. I raise my eyes to Jai. Well now, too late I know I can trust him.

He stares at Mali with a stoic expression. He doesn't move. He doesn't blink. I can't even tell if he's breathing. My imagination flashes with images of those unblinking eyes lifeless and guilt burns through me.

As Smith leans over to wrap my ankles, Jai puts his palms under his thighs. It's a small movement, but I'm so hoping it means something. Mali doesn't seem to notice or care where he puts his hands. Then-while her gaze is still on Smith tying me to the chair-with the speed of lightning, Jai pushes himself up horizontally like a gymnast performing on the rings, twists up, and reels into a kick that knocks the gun from Mali's grasp.

Surprise etches her face and a grunt escapes her. Metal scrapes across cement and Jai lands past Mali. I realize his initial movement meant everything. This is it. This is our one chance.

On his knees, Smith turns toward the struggle behind him and I blast him in the face with my feet. Twice. I see Jai bending for the gun. When Smith roars up at me all I can see is his rage. He shoves the chair and my head hits the cement wall with a thud. In between stars, a knife appears in his hand.

"No!" Mali screams. "Don't cut her!"

The blurry knife wavers. I can see the struggle in his expression, like he wants to use the knife on me, but has to listen to her.

"Drop it before I shoot," Jai says in a deadly tone that causes both Mali and Smith to pause.

Smith's eyes narrow on me with hatred while the knife clatters to the cement.

For a few seconds, the room is silent and everyone is still. Smith stands before me. Ping's eyes are wide above the swath of tape covering his mouth. Chang's up and next to the table. In the center of the room, the center of everyone's attention, Mali and Jai stare at each other. I now breathe in hope through my nose above the tape.

Then Mali lunges. Except for lifting his arm, Jai doesn't move. His palm hits her under the nose. Blood sprays between them. She staggers back. Her hands reach for her face. Ah, she might actually need plastic surgery now.

At the sight of blood spewing through Mali's hands Smith leaps toward Jai. Chang jumps on Smith's back. Unfortunately, Smith locks Chang's arms to his chest then rams him against the cement wall. Thump. Thump. Thump. Chang's grunts echo as his body gets pulverized. Ping shakes the chair he's tied to in rage.

"Let him go," Jai yells, pointing the gun.

Smith keeps pounding Chang against the wall.

Mali glances at the commotion then at the gun wavering in Jai's hands before she lunges again. The tape across my mouth muffles my warning. Just as her long nails are about to shred his face, Jai steps aside and seizes her arm. He pulls and bends the limb. Bones crunch. Her cries mingle with Chang's grunts as she falls to her knees. My eyes grow wide at the sight of her twisted arm. It's cocked up at an almost ninety degree angle.

"Tell him to stop," Jai lets go of the crooked limb, "or I'll break your other arm." His tone is smooth and cold. Mali sways, holding her ruined arm. "Tell him!" Jai nudges her broken arm with his boot.

"Do it!" Mali hisses.

Smith lets Chang slide to the ground. He shakes his head, takes two steps, and practically falls on the table.

"Face the wall," Jai orders them. "Hands above your head."

Smith plasters himself against the cement, but Mali is hesitant. Jai's foot nudges harder this time. Her face distorts with fury until she finally goes. Hope surges through me. We might make it out of this alive.

"Tape their hands and feet together," Jai commands Chang, who's still wobbling a bit, over the steel of the gun. "And then tape their mouths."

My nervous eyes travel from Chang tying them up, to Ping watching, to Jai's steady hold on the gun. Everything goes smooth-except for the cry Mali releases when Chang moves her arm-and in minutes, I'm wincing from Chang's quick tear on the tape covering my mouth.

"Keep your nose to the wall," Jai barks harshly when Mali's cold eyes watch us. He motions us to move out of the apartment.

I grab my bag from the floor, but Mali's purse on the table lures me. Inside I find a wad of green that I stuff into my pocket. I also find a card that reads, Brian's House: Where Mentally Unstable Teens Become More than Stable and Where the Addicted Become Free. The word teens and addicted, and the fact the card is in her purse, has me memorizing the phone number and address before I push the card back into her wallet. Make-up and lotion clutter the rest of the bag. Jai's motioning me toward the door where Ping and Chang wait, yet I can't resist squeezing half a tube of goop into the purse before rushing over to them.

The buttheads wait quietly while their round eyes watch Jai. His narrowed eyes are on Mali and Smith. His finger hugs the trigger.

For a millisecond, I hope he pulls that half circle of metal. Two quick shots and my problems will be over. Shaking the blackness from my vision, I gasp, "Come on Jai."

He doesn't respond. The gun trembles.

I glance at the spray of Mali's blood across his gray shirt. I don't want it on his hands or his conscience. Honor. And I know deep down, he doesn't either. "Jai, don't do this! Let's go!" I plead.

He glances at me. His chest rises in a deep breath. He drops the gun to his side. With our enemies still alive, we race out the door. Near the top of the stairs, Jai pries his fingers from the gun. Behind the Laundromat, he tosses it in the dumpster.

Chapter 26*Snow.

Tears wet my face. The frigid air turns the wetness to almost ice, but I've given up on wiping them away. Though I usually stay far away from any feelings, I can't contain my emotions. This is wrong. So very wrong. Harrison does not deserve to be dumped and used. He deserves a proper burial and farewell. He deserves music, flowers, and more than just my tears and guilt. Instead, I'm leaving him under branches covered with snow and over frozen leaves. Ice is his grave marker. Snowflakes his mourners.

Jai pulls the tarp away and closes lifeless eyes with a gloved finger. He glances at my face. Frowning, he looks back at the body. "Maybe we shouldn't do this."

I shake my head. We had to get him out of the car and this will be to our benefit. Deep inside though, what we're doing is killing me.

An arm winds around me and he pulls me close. "Are you sure?"