Home. Wine. Couch. That’s the whole plan. It sounds blissfully dull, and I couldn’t be happier to do it—
—until a hand grabs me by the elbow and drags me into the dark mouth of an alley.
I’m so surprised that I let go of my groceries. The bag hits the pavement and all the eggs crack, wine spills, and clementines go rolling everywhere. But I can’t even spare a thought for my poor lost fruits, because there’s a tall, dangerous man who’s demanding my full and undivided attention.
I know it’s him before I even turn around. I’ve felt this exact gloved hand on my body enough times now to recognize it. I yank my arm free and spin.
He’s standing in the alley in full gear. Black jacket, hat on, and the mask. The f*****g ski mask, right here, on a public street in Manhattan.
“Are you out of yo
