From Manhattan with Revenge (The Fourth Book in the Fifth Avenue Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

that she had outwitted them.
    As she walked near them, she looked at
each of them. Recognized one of them from a job she did years ago, though she
couldn’t remember his name. She saw the anger on their faces. The resentment of
what she’d created. They knew she set this up. It was as clear as the lights
strobing across their pissed-off faces.
    “Tell Katzev to fuck off,” she said to the
one she recognized. “And then tell him to watch his back.”
    “You’re going to die, Carmen.”
    “You think so?”
    “Just a matter of time.”
    She walked past them. Heard the rain tap
against her hat. Wondered if they’d make a move. Wondered if this was it.
Without Alex in her life, a part of her didn’t care if her time was up. A part
of her would be happy to be nailed in the back of the head and go straight into
the darkness where Alex would greet her. She missed him that much. More than
anything, she wanted to be with him again. But because of what happened to him,
a larger part of her wanted very much to stay alive and do what she’d set out
to do. She returned to Manhattan for revenge. She planned to make them pay for
what they did to him. And to her.
    “I guess that’s true for each of us,” she
said over her shoulder. “Katzev is cleaning house. You two might be next. I’d
give some thought to that if I were you.”
    “You won’t make it, Carmen.”
    “Knowing Katzev, you might not either. But
look at me. Keep your eyes on my ass, boys. I’m walking away from you right
now.”

 
 
 
 
    CHAPTER SIX

 
    She awoke the next morning at a Holiday
Inn Express on Union Street in Brooklyn. It was a shithole, but it was next to
the subway and it was out of Manhattan, which was good enough for her.
    When she checked in late the night before,
the woman at the reception desk said in a drowsy, monotone voice that they were
happy she chose the Holiday Inn Express and how wonderful it was to have her
there. The rest was just as canned, which Carmen sometimes liked to toy with,
especially when she was as stressed as she was then. Verbally boxing with
someone relaxed her.
    She appraised the woman behind the
counter. Dry blonde hair ruined from a kitchen-sink dye job. Heavy red lipstick
that drew attention to a chipped front tooth turned yellow from smoking. Heavy
makeup that was darker than her natural skin color and that stopped at her
jawline. She hadn’t blended it down toward her neck. She looked ridiculous.
Carmen watched her go through the motions of customer service as if connecting
with a customer was the last thing she wanted to do.
    Let’s see what she’s got.
    “How was your day?” the woman asked.
    “Murderous,” Carmen said.
    “Sorry to hear that.”
    “No. Literally, it was murderous.”
    The woman lifted her eyes to her.
    “I can’t believe I got through it. It
almost killed me.”
    The woman swiped a card through a machine,
tucked it in a small, used envelope that read Holiday Inn Express , and
went back to the script she’d memorized from years of repeating the same rhetoric.
    “We at the Holiday Inn Express want you to
know that we have complimentary coffee, juices, and breakfast items in the
morning. Our complimentary breakfasts, which are free to our valuable
customers, are available from 6 a.m. until 10 a.m. We are known for our
cinnamon rolls. You will love them.”
    “I usually sleep until eleven.”
    “Then you will miss breakfast.”
    “You won’t hold it for me?”
    “We can’t do that, ma’am.”
    “Why?”
    “Policy.”
    “More likely, the proliferation of
bacteria.”
    The woman blinked.
    “About the rolls,” Carmen said. “I’m
allergic to cinnamon. Anything you can do about that?”
    “There’s fruit.”
    “No cinnamon-free rolls?”
    “Fruit.”
    “Oranges?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Grapefruit?”
    “I know there’s a carousel of cereal.”
    “A carousel?”
    “Four different kinds. You like fruit?
We’ve got Fruit Loops.”
    “How’s the