Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Tell me, Mrs. Whelan—”
I lightly interrupt her. “Please, call me Bianca.”
“Which means you’ll have to call me Elena.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement and confidence. “What made you reach out to me in the first place?”
I hesitate a moment. The truth is, I used resources provided to me by both the Whelan Clan and the Marino Famiglia to come up with a list of potential candidates, and her name floated to the top. But I’m thinking maybe I should leave out the mob connections for now.
“I found your resume online, did a little research, and decided we should meet up. Your background is exactly what I’m looking for.”
She seems to accept that explanation, even though it sounds a little thin, even to me. “Well, please, I’d love to hear more about this project of yours. What did you say you were calling it?”
“I’m not settled on a name yet, but I’m thinking something along the lines of Second Chances. I volunteered at Grace House in Philadelphia for years, and I’d like to model ourselves after their success.”
Elena nods enthusiastically. “I’ve heard of them. Kate Rodriguez runs Grace, doesn’t she?”
“Kate’s like a mentor to me.”
“Okay, I’ll admit, I’m very intrigued.” She sits back and studies me, a little smile on her face. “I didn’t know what to expect when I came here, but you seem very earnest, Bianca.”
“Earnest and persistent.”
“The two most important traits you need in this line of work.”
“I’m aware, believe me. I’ve seen a lot.” I pull out some more papers and clear my throat. “Since you asked, let’s start with more about my vision for Second Chances, and then I’ll ask some questions about your background, if that’s okay?”
“By all means.” Elena gestures for me to get started.
We talk for over an hour. She orders coffee and some toast, and I almost forget that we’re at a job interview. Elena reminds me so much of Kate, and by the time we finish up and I pay our bill, I’m totally in love with her.
This woman is everything I need. Smart, driven, passionate, and caring. She’s seen it all and come through the other side. “The thing you need to know about New York is it’s a total nightmare,” she says with a laugh as we leave the diner together. “The job itself is hard, but there are also the city politics. Securing funding, licensing, permitting, real estate, all that stuff. Getting in the right spots to help the most amount of people.”
We stop next to my car as we keep talking.
“That’s why I want to work with you. I know Philadelphia, but I didn’t grow up here. I need someone who did.”
Elena nods, looking at me like she’s trying to see through me. It’s a calculated stare filled with curiosity and intensity. “I’ll be honest. I wasn’t all that confident coming to this meeting. From my perspective, you seemed like a well-meaning person, but maybe a little too naive.”
I laugh lightly. If only she knew where I came from, she might not think that anymore. “I can’t blame you, but trust me. I’m very serious about this.”
“No, I can see that now.” She taps a finger against her lip. “Tell you what—”
She never gets to finish that sentence.
I don’t know how it happens. One second, Elena’s telling me something, and the next the world is upside down. Heat sears my body. My ears are ringing, and I’m staring at the sky. Am I leaning against the wall? Is that blood on my face? Blood on my lips?
It takes a few seconds before I hear the screaming.
Slowly, I push myself up. I’m lying on the sidewalk, flattened against the front of the diner. The sidewalk is covered in what looks like trash, like someone spilled their lunch, until I look closely.
And realize they’re parts of a person.
I recognize the scraps. Some of the clothes. An earring. A few fingers attached to a torn-apart hand.
Elena Vasquez.
Behind her, my car is a smoldering wreck. Pieces of flaming debris are thrown all over the place. Nearby pedestrians are running around, shouting at each other, and some older man crouches down to yell in my face. His lips move, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. It looks like, are you okay, are you okay?
I murmur something and shove him aside as I get to my knees.
Elena’s ear sits on the ground.
I throw up, heaving and sobbing. This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. But I’m not waking up.
Slowly, I push to my feet.
The Whelan driver is gone. He’s evaporated. If there’s anything left of him, I can’t see it anymore.
Whoever planted those explosives wanted to make sure they didn’t miss.
Except they did. Somehow, they got Elena instead of me.
I replay the scene in my head. We were standing there, talking—