it was easier to be determined when she wasn’t dizzy from not sleeping and she knew what the hell was going on.
“Listen to me, sweetheart,” her mom said. “I know how much you want this, and how hard you’ve worked, but if things don’t turn out like you planned, you know you can always come home. New York can be overwhelming. The goal you’ve set for yourself isn’t as simple as finding a job. Don’t listen to your father and your brother. Coming home doesn’t mean you’re a failure. So please promise me that if it gets to be too much, you’ll come back.”
Tears collected in the corners of her eyes. It would be a failure. She believed that with all her heart. She was going to be the first in her family to actually make it. On her own. She’d do whatever it took, no matter what—after she strangled Wes, of course. She’d make it in New York, all right. “Of course, Mom,” she said, her voice a little rougher than she would’ve liked. “I promise.”
* * *
APRIL STARED UP at the Mercury Building and then at the apartment key in the palm of her hand. Wes had mailed the key to her at the very last minute and she hadn’t thought to question it. How could she have been such a fool? Why would she need a key if he had intended to meet her at the bus station?
After she’d arrived at the Port Authority and saw Wes wasn’t there waiting for her, she hadn’t bothered to call him again. She’d simply slipped on her backpack, collected her heavy rolling suitcase and her enormous nonrolling duffel bag and managed to navigate the subway without bursting into tears.
She double-checked the address to be sure she was at the right place before lugging everything through the building’s darkened entranceway, praying the whole time that the key would actually fit the lock of apartment 4A. The first thing she saw was an out-of-order sign taped to the elevator door.
With a small whimper, she started up the stairs. The next problem—she couldn’t possibly take both bags at the same time. She’d fall and kill herself before she’d tasted a single slice of real New York pizza.
Making sure no one was watching her, she stashed the duffel in a tight shadowed alcove. She figured it would take her five minutes to get everything else upstairs and then she’d race back to get the bag. It was her only option at this point.
What felt like several hours later, she finally made it to the fourth floor.
Thankfully, the key worked. It was actually someone else’s apartment, unoccupied and filled with construction equipment. Soon enough she found the staircase that led to the room Wes had rented.
Her last shred of hope that this was all one great big misunderstanding disappeared when she entered the room.
Of course Wes wasn’t there.
She could tell because the room wasn’t very large and the closet door was open. There were no clothes in it. None. Zero. In fact, the only things in the room were an unmade mattress with a mess of sheets balled up in the middle, a pillow with no case and a microwave on the window ledge sitting next to a coffeemaker.
Sticking out from beneath the sheets was an envelope with her name printed on it in Wes’s handwriting.
Her hand trembled as she slipped out the letter. The black pit of anxiety in her stomach had her feeling nauseated to the point of checking how many steps it was to the bathroom down the hall. At least the toilet seat was up in case she had to make a run for it. She took a deep breath and looked down at the letter.
I’m really sorry. I’ll pay you back every penny. I swear.
The paper floated away as her legs refused to hold her up for another second. She missed the mattress, falling down hard on her knees on the wood floor. It was so much worse than even her nightmare scenarios. He was gone. Actually gone. With her money.
He’d left her in a strange city, in a weird apartment, with a business plan but no partner. He was supposed to handle all the tech. All the research into companies and potential workers. Background checks, safety records. Databases and money exchanges, so they’d bank a piece of every single job they matched. Their business was meant to be like a hotel concierge service complete with guaranteed safety checks.
And he’d disappeared. Ditched her without so much as a warning.
How could he have done this to her? They’d been lovers.
Her head dropped into her hands, and there was no holding back the great racking sobs. Not just because he’d stolen her money, but because she couldn’t...
God, the expectations of her family had been so important to her, ever since she’d excelled in high school. Before that, really. From a young age, her father had called her The Great Branagan Hope to whoever would listen. He’d laughed, but she knew he’d meant it. The nickname was hauled out with every A, every award, every success she’d earned.
And she’d been brought to her knees on her first day of what was supposed to be her greatest venture yet.
The humiliation was as hard to swallow as the betrayal. She was dizzy by the time she got control of her sobbing. But she hadn’t stopped shaking. And it was only then that she remembered she’d left her other bag downstairs.
She took a minute to gain her balance after she stood. When she could walk, she went into the bathroom to wipe her face. Instead of finding a towel, she found toilet paper sitting on the floor. With exactly four sheets left on the roll.
She’d find that son of a bitch, and she’d kill him.
Finally, she started making her way back down the four flights of stairs. It wasn’t until she hit the second floor that she noticed a crowd had gathered on the sidewalk.
Two policemen were standing near the broken elevator, their flashlights shining exactly where she’d left her bag. The distorted sounds of their walkie-talkies made her stomach churn.
Hell. She’d been gone too long. They’d found her unattended bag. In New York City. Great. At least there’d be plenty of toilet paper when she was shipped off to Gitmo.
She flew down the stairs. “Wait, wait. That’s my bag. I couldn’t carry it up with my other giant suitcase and I only meant to leave it for a second but my business partner stranded me and took all my savings. But I swear there’s nothing dangerous inside, and I can tell you every single item in there. Just please don’t send me to jail.”
The two cops stared at her, their hands close to their weapons.
“Honestly,” she said, trying to catch her breath, but since her chest was squeezing her lungs flat, it wasn’t easy. “My name is April Branagan, but the name tag on the duffel is Eloise Wooster. I borrowed it from my aunt. You can call her if you want, and she’ll confirm it. I didn’t want to use my name and address because this is a temporary rental, so if it got lost, it could have been lost forever, and it’s got all my underwear and a lot of my business clothes.
The good-looking cop put up his hand, stopping her. “Look, we have no choice about this. Any unattended bag left under suspicious circumstances requires a protocol—”
“But it’s not suspicious. I swear. I’m standing right here, and if you unzip it even just a tiny bit, I can tell you what you’ll find.”
“This is a residential building,” the shorter cop said. “A lot of people
