Chapter 2

By the time I came out of surgery again, it was broad daylight.

The repair had taken everything I had left. I wheeled my suitcase out the front entrance, and a black Range Rover braked hard right at my feet, tires squealing.

The window slid down. Arthur's face was lit by the morning sun, and his eyes were full of contempt.

"What's this? Timing your exit so you can run into me? Or are you after a ride, like old times?"

I didn't even glance at him. I headed for the subway station on the corner.

I needed to call my mentor right away and settle the thing I'd been putting off.

The Range Rover crawled along beside me, a shadow I couldn't shake.

"Running already? You nearly killed a patient and you can't even own it?" He raised his voice on purpose, and people on the sidewalk turned to stare.

I stopped, sighed, opened the passenger door and got in. "The apartment near the hospital, please."

He gave a quiet laugh. "Looks like your sugar daddy didn't leave you much. When you were with me, you wouldn't live anywhere but a penthouse."

He always knew exactly where to put the knife.

Back then I'd been his bird in a glass cage, given the best of everything, until I saw the situation for what it was and left without a word. I'd ground his pride into the floor on my way out.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window, waiting for the migraine to back off.

The car stopped once along the way.

A minute later a hot paper bag landed hard in my lap.

"Eat. I don't need you passing out on me from low blood sugar." His voice was flat and cold. "Roast beef and cheddar. You used to love those."

I set the bag on the center console. "Thanks, but I don't eat beef anymore."

The air in the car went cold.

Then Arthur rolled down his window, grabbed the bag, and flung it into the street.

The engine roared, and the acceleration pressed me back into my seat.

He pulled up outside my building. I'd barely gotten both feet on the curb before the Range Rover tore away.