Dangerous Game
Greta had been fussing over Vivian since the robbery, which in her world meant plying Vivian with enough food to feed all of midtown Manhattan during lunch hour.
I barely noticed the stinging hot water as I showered off the blood and sweat.
Vivian insisted she was fine, but few people recovered from having a gun pressed to their head that quickly.
According to Greta, she was currently taking a nap, and she never napped this late in the day. Or ever, now that I thought about it.
I turned off the water, my thoughts as clouded as the steamed-up mirror.
I’d done my part. I’d punished the perpetrators,