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Back No Going Back: a Novel Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part 1
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. Part 2
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. Part 3
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. Part 4
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. Part 5
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. Part 6
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. Acknowledgments
  82. About the Author
  83. Also by Sheena Kamal
  84. About the Publisher

Someday, somebody was going to catch that fucking violent asshole and teach him a lesson.

29

As I pull into the alley behind the Hastings office, I notice a man wearing all black lingering outside the back door, pretending to seek the shelter of the awning. He’s in excellent shape, extremely broad in the chest. Too healthy for this neighborhood by far and trying to hide it with an affected slouch. But I have lived in the downtown eastside for years, walked these streets at all hours of the day and night. I know who belongs in these alleys, and he doesn’t.

I drive past with my hood pulled low. As I do, he steps away from the awning, his focus on the car. In the rearview mirror I see his phone is out and he’s speaking into it. Shit. I gun it out of the alley and go the wrong direction up the one-way street it lets out into. There are several honks, but I keep going until I get to the next cross street and make an abrupt turn. It takes me ten minutes of driving to make sure no one’s behind me.

Eventually, I get to Leo’s place.

Standing outside on the busy street, I look up. A shadow crosses the window inside the apartment. I call Leo’s phone. He picks up after the third ring.

“Are you at the apartment?” I ask.

“Nora?”

“Are you there?”

“No.”

“There’s someone inside.”

“Who?”

“I can’t make it out, but it looks like a woman.” There was a sweep of long hair falling forward when the figure crossed the window. “Who else has access to the place?”

“Nobody. It’s a crappy little apartment, though, and security is almost nonexistent, as you know. People leave the rear door propped open all the time to move stuff into their cars out back.”

And the lock on that door itself is a joke. I could pick it in under a minute. “Someone’s watching the office, too.”

“You sure about that?”

I think about the broad-chested man in black. “One hundred percent.”

“I’ll tell Warsame and Brazuca. Nora, I’m calling the cops to report a break-in. Just so you know.”

There’s a laundromat about four doors down with a few parking spaces out back. I pull into one of them and use the mirrors on my old Corolla to watch the rear door of Leo’s building. There are apartment units up there, and Leo’s right, nobody living there is particularly concerned about leaving the door open every now and then. Even though they should be. Because now there is someone who isn’t supposed to be up there, rooting around.