Chapter TwentyI sprint for the cab.
They leap into the traffic.
Would they dare shoot me in front of hundreds of witnesses?
They dodge cars as they run toward me.
To onlookers, it might seem like they want to steal my cab—a common sin in New York City.
I reach the cab, rip the door open, and dive inside.
There’s a glimmer of metal in one of my attacker’s hands.
“I’ll give you a hundred-dollar tip if you hit the gas right this second,” I tell the older woman behind the wheel. “And I’ll write you the most glowing review you’ve ever gotten.”
I’m not sure if it’s the money or the promise of a great review that does it, but we rocket forward—nearly running over both guards in the process.
I duck so they can’t see me in the rearview window.
No one shoots at us.
Five blocks later, I si
