It’s not as creative as most of my revenge schemes, but then, Ericson is a special breed of monster. Only a directness meant to obliterate will deliver retribution.

I take a big gulp of cappuccino, and dead silence rings in my ear as the mic cuts out in Maybelline’s phone and I lose connection.

“Dammit.” I push the button to reconnect and wait.

This happened twice on the walk here. I thought maybe it was the distance; the device’s Bluetooth not reaching far enough in the congested city. Now, however, I’m right across the street from The Plaza, and my internal alarm is triggered.

I stare at my phone, waiting for the text. Alex and I set up a fail-safe should things go badly. Alex will message me the name “Lilah” from our first encounter, his signal for me to bail him out.

My plan for that also isn’t very impressive. Contact the police.

I’m becoming antsy as I stare at my phone, the noise of the espresso machine grating my nerves. The feed has been down too long. Something isn’t right. I can feel it in my bones.

“Come on…” I will the connection to link up, and just as I’m about to do something stupid, like try to break into The Plaza, my phone dings with a text from Alex’s phone.

Alex: Your boy is in the park.

I read the message again slowly, this time deciphering the meaning. A normal, rational reaction would be to panic. My heart rate remains steady as I mentally pick through the details to find a solution.

Someone in the penthouse sent that message. They said your boy, clearly referring to Alex. He’s in Central Park. Beaten…or worse. This person discovered Alex was there under pretext, and they know about me. Whether or not this person is Ericson or one of Brewster’s men is a deciding factor on how to approach the situation, one more dangerous than the next.

Either way, I’m out of my seat and pushing through the door of the coffee shop. Alex could be anywhere in the park, but I start with the entrance right across the street from the hotel.

I don’t wait for the crosswalk sign to signal it’s safe to cross. I cut across the street, dodging angry cab drivers and tourists. My defenses are up as I shove past people crowding the lamplit entrance.

With the noise of the city behind me, I enter the dark park and search the pathway, the green pond. The crisp air does nothing to mask the smoggy, earthy scent of the park. Alex has to be somewhere nearby; there’s no way anyone had time to take him deeper into the park.