Page 180 of House of Cards

I spend the next hour wandering the villa like a caged animal, looking for an opportunity. The staff moves around me with practiced invisibility, but I catch glimpses—a gardener pruning roses, a housekeeper changing linens, a man in coveralls checking the pool equipment.

Normal people with normal lives who probably have cars. Or at least know someone who does.

I find her in the laundry room, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and work-worn hands. She looks up when I enter, surprise flickering across her face.

“Miss? You need something?”

“I need your help, please,” I say, trying to project more confidence than I feel. “I need to get back to the city.”

Her expression immediately shutters. “I...I can’t?—“

“Please.” I step closer, licking my lips. “If you can’t help, just tell me who can. A driver, maybe? Someone who wouldn’t mind an extra passenger? I’ve got money. I can pay.”

She glances toward the door, then back at me. “There is Manny,” she says quietly. “He collects supplies from the market.”

“Where can I find him?”

“He comes back in the morning.” She wrings her hands nervously. “But Mr. Smith will not?—”

“Mr. Smith isn’t here.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the casino chips I’ve been smuggling with me for what feels like an eternity. “Does Manny like to gamble?”

Her eyes widen at the sight of the chips. Based on her reaction, they’re more than enough.

“I...”

I press a chip into her hand. “Please.”

“I will ask him,” she whispers.

“Thank you.” Relief floods through me so fast it makes me dizzy. “Thank you so much.”

She nods quickly and hurries away, leaving me alone with the scent of fabric softener and the first genuine hope I’ve felt in days.

Soon as I’ve convinced Manny to sneak me out of here, I’m heading back to the city to find out the truth about Ricky. I’ll call his cell, see if Elonzo will pick up. I might have to arrange another drop, but that’s fine by me.

And if he’s really gone...

Well. Then maybe I’ll consider becoming Patricia Dyer.

But not before I know for sure.

Not before I’ve done everything I can to save the only family I have left.

Smith can run back to his casino and pretend this never happened, that I never mattered. But I won’t abandon my brother the way everyone else has abandoned me.

Even if staying means facing Elonzo Hernández and his entire Colombian cartel.

Even if it means walking straight into the trap Smith was so desperate to keep me from.

Fuck it.

If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging.

Smith

The Bentley may as well be a fucking hearse. That’s how fucking dead I am inside.

Twelve hours.