So be it.
Except ...
Penny laughed as she stepped out of the vehicle, calling back into the man, “I’m not the one you’ll have to worry about seeing the threat through, though. Keep it in mind.”
There were always worst monsters waiting in the wings. Penny was only one of them.
She closed the door. The last thing she saw from the man was red taillights as he pulled out of the alleyway. That was fine with her.
One thing done.
She was one second closer to ending it all ...
THE MOTEL ROOM PENNY rented in the Bronx wasn’t much to look at. Peeling wallpaper with a faded flower design gave the single room—and attached bathroom—some color, at least. The brown, shag carpet had been laid at least three decades before she even existed. God only knew the things these walls had heard and seen.
That was about all she could say for the motel.
Then again, the place was booked by the hour. She was probably one of the only patrons in the place who paid for several days upfront which should have said enough. Nonetheless, she avoided focusing on the stains on the carpet never mind pulling the sheets off the bed. The old furniture had seen better days but the single table, chair, twin bed, and three-drawer dresser all served their purpose.
She’d stayed in worse.
Hell, she’d been raped in worse.
At least, she was out of the rain, had a place to sleep, and there was a decent diner down the street when her hunger became enough of an annoyance that she had no choice but to deal with it. The motel hadn’t required identification to book the room when she slapped down an extra thousand dollars to cover any damages.
Shit.
They could keep the money.
Maybe spruce up the room.
Penny wouldn’t come looking for it, anyway. And if she could help it, then she wouldn’t bring any problems to the motel, either. After all, the entire point of her getting a room was to use it to stay out of sight. No paper trail. She left nothing behind for someone to use to find her.
Since she didn’t have anything else to do, Penny had at least taken the time to open the duffle bag from Carson to look through the items inside properly. Her wigs were now hanging from wire hangers on the shower’s metal bar to keep them in decent shape should she need to use one. All the makeup that she might need to change her appearance had been set out on the table alongside three pairs of folded black jeans and matching tank tops. Not that the weapons needed to be cleaned, but she took her time with the gun, silencer, and even the knife just because she could.
What was time?
She had too much of it.
For now.
Keeping busy, even if it was only arranging her things and attempting to settle into the motel room for however long her stay would be, was something she could do. Actions she could control. A way to keep her mind from traveling elsewhere.
To keep her heart from hurting.
It always hurt, though.
Always.
Was it all a bit much? Not really. It was, however, exactly what Penny needed. The League had done more than teach Penny how to kill while giving her the chance to change history ... even if it had taken her entirely too long to figure out the past never went away. They had also given her the ability to take care of herself.
In every way.
Mentally.
Physically.
In business.
Having already discarded the burner phone she used to contact Carson, she went ahead and picked a new phone from the pile on the dresser along with one of the cards to activate it. If the man followed her directions—and she knew he did—then each card and phone had been purchased from different locations. Despite burners being incredibly hard to track, it wasn’t actually impossible given enough time and the right hacker to do it.
Penny didn’t want to take chances.
Every single time she used one of the phones, it would be destroyed after. Including this time.
From the pocket of her black jeans, she produced a folded piece of paper that had barely made it through the day’s rain. The edges tore at her rough handling, but she didn’t care because she didn’t plan to use the number written inside again after today.
The thing about politicians?
Anything could be found with little effort. Including their addresses, home phone numbers, and even the names of the schools where their children attended.
Penny only cared about one of those—the phone number to the home where her mother had apparently moved in with her soon-to-be husband, the New Jersey senator, Gilles Tracey. Though they apparently lived in Jersey with the senator’s two daughters, they also kept a home in New York and frequently traveled between the two states.
Or, so Penny learned through her searches of the internet. Anything could be found ... if someone looked hard enough.
Activating the phone and minutes on the card took little time, and before long, Penny had punched in the number. She put the phone on speaker and held it in front of her as she paced the short length of the motel room while the call rang through.
Once.
Then twice.
A third time.
She honestly didn’t know what she expected—getting the number had been a last-minute decision, and not one she really thought out entirely. So much about her mother and the last several years of her life hunting the woman and anyone connected to her had been carefully planned events. Nothing was left to chance.
The thing was ...
Penny wanted Allegra to see her coming, now. Nothing else would do.
“Tracey residence—Joesph speaking,” came a male voice through the speaker.
Penny almost hung up.
Almost.
She didn’t think her mother would actually pick up the phone. She bet the senator had a whole house full of employees to handle every aspect of his daily business. That was before Penny factored in the people her mother probably had on hand.
Nothing about this would be easy.
She already knew it.
“Is Allegra home?” Penny asked opting to just ... see.
“Ms. Hatheway is upstairs in her sitting room. Give me a moment—I’ll put you through. Who am I speaking to?”
“An old friend.”
The man didn’t even question it.
A click sounded on the phone before a ringing started again. This time, it only rang twice before the call was picked up.
The feminine voice that answered the call was unconcerned and blasé in tone, but the sound of her mother saying hello still felt like a knife raking down Penny’s spine.
“Hello,” Allegra greeted.
Penny dragged in a slow breath.
Allegra waited one second, and then another before saying again, “Is anyone there?”
“Do you think about me?”
Silence answered back.
It actually made Penny smile.
Then, her mother sucked in a hiss before saying, “Penny—”
She didn’t get more out.
Penny wouldn’t let her.
Nothing was on Allegra’s time anymore. She controlled nothing about Penny. It took years to figure that out, but here she was.
“Did you see me coming?” she asked.
A squeak echoed on the other end of the call, as if Allegra had jumped out of her chair. The woman’s next words came out sharp and stinging when she said, “You little bitch—do you know the mess you’ve caused us? You are dead. How long do you think you can last before we find you?”