Crash and Burn (1)

i don't feel bad about much these days

♚ ♛

SPRING STREET STUDIOS.

Herschel Factory.

Ibizer.

X.

Kangaroo.

Tres Olas.

KPNG.

The Knitting Factory.

Mara Salvatrucha.

Cascade.

No.

There was no way that Seth would still be working out of these, not when I had known about them...not when I'd been there. Shit, shit, shit. I palmed my forehead angrily, ripping out another newspaper and drawing a quick, messy scrawl of the five boroughs.

At least I knew the hotspots.

I worked hastily, circling the neighborhoods in frustration. The East Village, Brownsville, and Spanish Harlem. Flatbush. Kingsbridge, Washington Heights, Coney Island, Sunset Park. When I sat back to examine the entire map, all I saw was red.

"Arghh!" I yanked the piece of paper, ripped it in half, and tossed the remains around me. "Fuck!"

Seth basically owned New York City. How were you supposed to find someone like that? Someone who could be anywhere? Someone who had people everywhere? The only upside was that it would make Soren's plan easy; we could go into any neighborhood in any borough, and know that someone would be watching us.

Someone would be close.

That could get us somewhere. That was our only way to find him.

Huffing, I stood and walked to the kitchen. My bare feet brushed through the dirty carpet, and it almost made me feel at home. Almost. A small snore came from the sleeping man on the futon, and unexpectedly, a smile edged onto my face.

That made me feel at home. That reassured me yet again that I wasn't alone.

"Okay, you can do this."

Breathe.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling lighter and more confident. I could do this. We could do this. As I pulled out another piece of newspaper and laid it on the counter beside Soren's map, I rolled my shoulders back. Regardless of what Soren had been compiling, I knew Seth better than anyone.

If I couldn't find him, then no one could.

Always have a second exit.

Never let them live to tell the tale.

If the first four hideouts are compromised, have ten more. Have a decoy. Have a safe house. Have people that are willing to give up their homes for you.

I had to remember what he'd told me, what he'd taught me, what he'd showed me. I had to remember who he was. Seth had always been a master manipulator. I'd watched him do it to so many people without even realizing that he'd done it to me.

After scribbling another messy draft of the shapes that made up the city, my eyes darted back and forth between both maps. A handful of Soren's messy markings were dangerously close to some of Seth's old hideouts, some of his old warehouses, some of his old businesses.

I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to convince myself again that Soren wasn't crazy. If he was crazy, maybe I was too—because I got the jitters when I looked at this map and thought about our plans. I was excited to hunt him down.