f the Flushing apartment building. She dragged Claudio, whose

her adoptive father, was sprawled on the stained sofa watching a baseball game. Bulah, h

saw Gena-the girl she had sold just hours ago-standing ther

to the man leaning against Gena. Specifically, her eyes loc

ut he knew expensive fabric when he saw it. The ruin

th dead eyes. "This is my boyfriend," she

mile stretched across her face. She rubbed her hands together and ru

ined his aristocratic posture, giving Bulah a look of absolute

shot him a glare so sharp that Leland yanked his han

em, kicked open the door to her tiny ten-square-fo

and whispering excitedly, already calculating how muc

. She dropped to her knees, pulled a dusty first-aid kit from u

ing heavily. He watched this girl-who lived in a slum but moved

off overhead would cause him too much pain, cut the ruined, bloody fabric up the side

violently as the cold air hit the wound. His

mp. Their faces were inches apart. Gena could

"If you don't want to die of sepsis,

itched it closed. Her movements weren't those of a trained surgeon, but of a master haute couture designer. She treated his torn

blood off her hands. She stared at her face in the mirror, diggi

o had taken over the entire twin bed. Hi

anket from the closet and prepared

om the door. "Gena, sweetie? I brought you two some hot

m Leland, and sat on the edge of the bed, pretending to be close to Claudio.

yes snapped open. His long arm shot out, grab

ck hitting Claudio's broad, solid chest. The cheap b

of the door. Two dark shadows were visible in the crack of ligh

ectly still, pressed flush against a man she barely knew, fee

ng slightly so he was pressing her into the mattress. He l

n the tiny room had skyrocketed. Gena lay trapped in Claudio's arms, he