THE FIND THE fact that I'm hiding in a bathroom to escape Sinclair as pathetic as anyone else probably would. Especially considering the fact that the whole reason I came to Carla’s in the first place was to get answers as to why I haven’t heard from him. I know how completely ass-backward this all is. I know that instead of hiding here on the bathroom floor—which is squeaky clean because Carla is nothing if not a clean freak, that much is obvious from how often she scrubs down her bar top even when there are no patrons—but I can’t help it.
The moment I heard those motorcycles outside and I realized it was the same thunderous announcement that always marked Sinclair’s arrival, I jumped up and shot up the stairs toward the bathroom without warning. Even I don’t fully understand why I’m a
