I'm sooooooo sorry it took me so long to update my life has been crazy. Thank you again for reading I hope you guys enjoy it.
The black sedan turned up for their date, and Kimberley didn't even blink when the driver got out to open the doors. She would just have to get used to that sort of thing in the future, she told herself.
Cheryl got out of the car and kissed her lightly, then held the door open for her to get in. Kimberley smiled at the driver as she entered, then slid over to make room for Cheryl. When she was seated next to her, Kimberley asked, "Is what I'm wearing all right?"
"It's fine," cheryl told her, seemingly distracted, but she reached for her hand. With a nod to the driver, the car pulled away from the curb, and they began to head back toward midtown.
Kimberley watched the buildings that passed, noting streets and trying to determine where exactly they were going. Where was this meeting being held? To her surprise, they pulled up in front of a small bar.
She gave Cheryl a curious look, but followed her out of the car and onto the street.
Cheryl put her hand on the small of Kimberley's back and guided her forward. Inside, the bar was quiet, only a few patrons seated at wooden tables. It looked very . . . ordinary. A hockey game was playing on a TV set in the corner, and no one was paying a bit of attention to them.
"Is this where the meeting is?"
"I'll explain everything later. I promise."
Curious, Kimberley let Cheryl lead her to one of the back doors. A dark, narrow hallway was lit by a single unadorned lightbulb, and at the far end stood a large hulking man next to a door.
Cheryl stepped in front of her and headed toward the man, and unease grew in Kimberley's stomach. This . . . wasn't normal. Was this some kind under-the-table business deal? Something illegal? Oh, God. Was Cheryl into trafficking? The drug trade? Kimberley's stomach twisted with anxiety. Surely not. She'd never expected such a thing from Cheryl, but what were they doing down here in this dingy hallway for a business meeting? She didn't understand.
The man eyed them with a cold expression, saying nothing, and Kimberley resisted the urge to step behind Cheryl and let her shield her.
Cheryl lifted her hand and placed two fingers over her heart, then moved it up to her shoulder, and slid them down her sleeve. A very specific gesture. The man nodded as if satisfied, and his glare fixed on Kimberley.
"She's with me," Cheryl told him.
The man's eyebrows went up, but he simply nodded and gestured at the door. "The others are inside."
This was clearly some sort of secret meeting. Kimberley's stomach clenched again. Surely Cheryl wasn't in the Mafia, was she?
Then again, this was New York City.
Cheryl pushed the door open and then gestured for Kimberley to enter.
She did, stepping down a narrow line of cement stairs into . . . a basement. A very well lit basement. Cigar smoke hung in the air, and she could hear the murmur of conversation that abruptly stilled as she descended the last stair and came into the others' view.
A poker table sat in the center of the room. A drink table at the far end. Chips were scattered about, along with half-full glasses and ashtrays. Around the table sat five people, all scowling at the sight of her.
Kimberley's heart sank. They were all wealthy. All wealthy and conducting secret meetings together? It could only be one thing. She turned to Cheryl, and tears shimmered in her eyes. She didn't know whether she was hurt or terrified. "Why didn't you tell me you were with the Mafia?"
