Wrong Place, Wrong Time (The Criminal Connections Book 1)

Chapter 1

Magdalena

It's dark and it's raining. The streetlights illuminate my breath as the cold nibs at my cheeks. I enjoy wintertime more than the average human, or so I like to think. We all want to feel special or unique, but realistically, someone out there probably enjoys it more than I do. I let out a sigh as I grab my suitcase and start walking along the sidewalk to get to the stone path leading to the grand building before me. The cab has just dropped me off at the curb of a fancy hotel. I usually don't splurge on hotels, but after the eleven-hour flight I've just been on, and the news I've just received, I think I deserve a good night of sleep, and a bit of pampering. By pampering I mean room service, and a nice warm bath, since I'll need to figure out the next steps of my life tomorrow. I definitely won't be able to stay at this hotel for long when I have to find a new apartment and put down a new deposit now that my originally rented apartment fell through. Actually, it didn't really fall through. I got scammed like the damn idiot that I am, though I reckon this could have happened to just about anyone. I was just the lucky one this time around.

An hour ago, I showed up at the given address, my apparently fake landlord sent me, just to find out the apartment is already resided in by a family who knew nothing of the landlord or the contract, nor where my money has gone. The family was kind enough to direct me to this nearby hotel, which always has a room or two available at all times because of the absurdly high price.

I've always been a planner, spontaneity stresses me out, so the fact that I'm here in New York right now on such short notice is unlike anything I've ever done in my life. No one knows that I'm here, and I don't plan on ever letting anyone from my so-called previous life know that I'm here. This is the first step to the beginning of a new life where I'm the one in charge for once. A life where I have no expectations from anyone to fulfill. No one gets to tell me something as shallow as 'you're eating cereal wrong'. It feels good, it feels really good even though things are already starting out rough – that must mean that everything will get better from here, right?

The streets are mostly quiet apart from the music that seems to be coming from the back of the hotel. Judging by the number of expensive cars parked on the street, and the people I spot in the lobby through the big glass doors, dressed in expensive, fancy clothing, I'm assuming there is a big party going on inside. I decide to spend a few extra minutes outside the hotel breathing in the fresh air and smoking a cigarette before checking in, except I can't seem to find my lighter. I rummage through my pockets but come up empty-handed. I must have misplaced it somehow. I know I've got an extra in my suitcase, but I'm not going to start unpacking it on the street. This day has been nothing but one obstacle after another. As I am about to grab my suitcase to head towards the entrance of the hotel, a couple of well-dressed men come walking out from behind the hotel. I assume they are guests of the party considering their suits and glasses of what I think is liquor.

One of the four men is lighting a cigarette whilst the others are murmuring quietly to each other as if they are afraid someone might hear what they are saying. They come to a stop on the same pavement I'm standing on, and they cast a few quick glances my way. It's hard to make out their faces, so I can't assume their ages, but they all have the bodies of Hercules, which makes me second guess my thoughts on asking to borrow a lighter. I don't know much about American people or their hospitality, but I guess I'll be an idiot one last time today and take my chances. Time to pull up my big girl pants and be socially stable enough to ask for something as simple as a light for my cigarette. I grab my suitcase and begin walking towards the group. Never leave your suitcase unattended, kids.

As I'm nearing them, the sudden screeching of tires brings me to a halt. I turn my head towards the street just as two dark vans come speeding around the corner of the next block. What in the world? The screeching of tires intensifies as the drivers slam the breaks almost right beside me. Not a single useful thought runs through my mind as I observe the scene unfolding in front of me. The sliding doors of the vans open, and I see the barrels of what looks like guns sticking out. This is bad, really bad. It feels like I'm watching everything in slow motion, even though the entire ordeal can't possibly have lasted more than thirty seconds. A bunch of masked people come pouring out of the vans as they spray bullets at the hotel. I'm almost too shocked to move, but the sound of glass shattering from the impact of the bullets pulls me right back to reality. I throw myself to the ground, trying to take cover behind my suitcase as if that's going to save me. I don't see much more than that because a cloth suddenly covers my mouth, and the world around me turns black.