When a swivel of events land Jaslene Romero in jail, it's up to Aarirai to get her out. Desperate to release her sister-by-heart from the concrete block she's been thrown into, Aarirai Andal gets help from Lysias Efah, the only man in New York City...
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“I’ll never take fast food for granted ever again.” I muttered as I brought the butter-lacking toast into my mouth. The bread needs more margarine, the eggs lack salt, the coffee lacks creamer, the oatmeal needs milk—how the hell do people survive years in prison?
“Ya got that right,” mumbled Berna, toothpick between her fingers and stick between her teeth, “I be missing Five Guys,” she said, “the burgers,” she clarified.
“I be missing Five Guys too,” said Miriam, taking a tissue from the small pile in the middle to wipe her mouth, “not the burgers.”
From the farthest right across me, another woman slipped a comment, “Slut,” she said, followed by a roar of laughter—mine was not included, though best believe I was amused.
My mind was still hung up on Arah’s plan. Never had my best friend been vague. Christmas Eve? Lysias? The name was awfully familiar, but for the love of Five Guys, I can’t seem to squeeze out where the fuck I heard it, let alone from who or when. Lysias. Lysias. Lysias. I repeated it. I doubt that his name really is Lysias like I doubt Sin Heizer’s is Sin.
I thought long and hard, staring at the empty tray in front of me. Lysias. The fact that it’s familiar and that I’ve heard it somewhere was enough confirmation that whoever the hell he is, that man plays in the underground. Now to identify what his business is. If he hadn’t been our target nor pending on our list, that only means that he’s not into trafficking nor pushing. Laundering, maybe? Debts? Favors? It would only make sense. People powerful enough to deal with escapes must have strong sources—most of them are men doing people favors which are technically not favors. Nope, far from it. More like deals—exchanges. They go as shallow as helping someone buy a house to helping someone kill a Don.
But I have the names of many men like him in my head. Lysias. Why is this the first time I’ve heard of him? Scanning the room, I wondered if any of the others knew about Lysias, but decided against asking. That’d be stupid.
“Toast for your thoughts, girlie?” Berna spoke beside me, waving her loaf in the air.
“It’s nothing,” I shook my head, “just missing home.”
“Where’s that?” she asked, eyes narrowed on me but the rest of her face relaxed, “home?”
“A penthouse in Midtown Manhattan,” I shrugged, “I just graduated a few months ago.”
“You’re smart, then?” another woman joined.
I forced a smile, “You don’t need a college diploma to be considered smart.”
“Yeah,” she shrugged, “but surely it means you got a brain.”
“Yeah,” I cocked my head to the side, agreeing to cut the conversation, “I think nicely.”
I stared at the empty tray again. Thankfully, the girls let the topic of education drop. In the background, their voices zoned out as my eyes settled on the fork on my plate—thin, metal, easily bendable. Sin Heizer is one resourceful man. Skilled too. Talented. I guess even smart. Also hot, but that’s beside the point.
