Chapter 1 - The Woman in the Back Seat
Panic tasted like old copper and city smog.
Chloe Mercer had not planned on breaking into a stranger’s vehicle that night.
She had planned everything else.
A canvas duffel bag hidden behind the Dumpster outside her apartment building.
Nine hundred and forty dollars in cash.
A burner phone.
A bus ticket leaving Manhattan at 1:20 a.m.
Two changes of clothes.
Her mother’s silver necklace.
And a flash drive wrapped inside the plastic liner of an aspirin bottle.
What Chloe had not planned for was Tommy discovering the ticket.
He had found it beneath the false bottom of her makeup bag.
After that, there had been shouting.
A broken kitchen chair.
The sting along Chloe’s cheek.
And one terrible moment when Tommy stood between her and the apartment door and smiled.
“You really thought you could leave me?”
Chloe had learned years ago that Tommy’s quiet voice was more dangerous than his shouting.
So she waited.
She apologized.
She pretended to surrender.
Then, when his phone rang, she drove her shoulder into him and ran.
Now cold November rain turned the industrial streets south of Midtown into shining black ribbons.
Her stockings were torn.
Her shoes were gone.
One side of her face throbbed.
Behind her came footsteps.
Two men.
Tommy’s cousins.
“Check behind the bins!”
Chloe pressed herself behind a rusted Dumpster and covered her mouth.
The alley ended at a ten-foot fence.
No exit.
No fire escape low enough to reach.
No open businesses except an unmarked nightclub with a steel service door.
Then she saw the black sedan.
It sat twenty feet away.
Huge.
Low.
Expensive.
Engine running.
Rear passenger door unlocked.
Chloe didn’t think.
She moved.
The door opened with a heavy mechanical click.
She threw herself inside and folded into the rear footwell.
The door closed.
Everything outside disappeared.
Rain.
Traffic.
Sirens.
Voices.
The car was almost completely soundproof.
Chloe pressed both hands over her mouth.
A flashlight passed across the tinted glass.
“Check the car.”
“You crazy?”
One of Tommy’s cousins suddenly sounded nervous.
“Look at the plate. Zero-two tag.”
“So?”
“So that’s DeLuca territory.”
Silence.
“I’m not touching that car.”
Chloe’s heartbeat stumbled.
DeLuca.
Even she knew that name.
Everybody in Manhattan did.
Roman DeLuca owned freight companies, construction firms, restaurants, nightclubs, private security businesses, and enough waterfront property to make newspapers periodically question where the legal empire ended and the criminal one began.
Tommy had once told her that certain people did not call Roman DeLuca a businessman.
They called him the man businessmen called when courts were too slow.
The footsteps moved away.
Chloe exhaled.
Then the nightclub door opened.
Another set of footsteps approached.
Measured.
Unhurried.
The driver’s door opened.
A man climbed inside.
He was enormous.
Broad shoulders beneath a dark wool coat.
Wet black hair swept away from his forehead.
A white shirt open at the collar beneath the coat.
A faint silver chain against his throat.
Chloe saw tattoos disappearing beneath his cuffs.
The door closed.
The dashboard illuminated.
He did not start driving.
He adjusted the rearview mirror.
Straight toward her.
Chloe saw his eyes.
Dark.
Steady.
Not surprised.
Her blood went cold.
“You can come up now.”
His voice was low.
Chloe remained frozen.
“You have approximately six seconds before I decide you entered my car for a reason other than hiding.”
She slowly lifted her head.
The man looked at her reflection.
His gaze dropped briefly to her bruised cheek.
Then to her torn stockings.
Then back to her eyes.
“What’s your name?”
Chloe swallowed.
“Please don’t make me get out.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Chloe.”
“Chloe what?”
“Mercer.”
His expression remained unreadable.
“Who are you hiding from, Chloe Mercer?”
Nobody.
A boyfriend.
An ex.
A mistake.
Her mouth opened.
A fist slammed against the rear window.
Chloe screamed.
Tommy stood outside.
Rain streamed over his face and black shirt.
His hair was soaked.
Fury distorted his features.
“There you are!”
Chloe flattened herself against the seat.
Tommy yanked the locked handle.
“Open the damn door!”
The man in front became completely still.
He turned his head.
For the first time, Chloe saw his face clearly.
Rugged.
Sharp jaw.
Dark stubble.
A faint scar near his temple.
He looked like violence that had learned perfect manners.
Tommy pounded the glass again.
“Chloe!”
The driver pressed a button.
The window lowered two inches.
Tommy leaned toward it.
“Listen, man, sorry. My girlfriend got in your car.”
The stranger’s eyes shifted toward Chloe.
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
Her voice barely worked.
Tommy glared through the glass.
“She’s upset.”
The man stared at Tommy.
Something changed.
Recognition.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“Thomas Kessler.”
Tommy stopped.
His entire face changed.
“Mr. DeLuca.”
Chloe’s stomach dropped.
Roman DeLuca.
She had broken into Roman DeLuca’s car.
Tommy stepped backward.
“I didn’t realize this was yours, sir.”
Roman glanced again at Chloe’s swollen cheek.
“Clearly.”
Tommy swallowed.
“This is personal. Chloe and I had an argument.”
Roman’s voice stayed quiet.
“Did she give you that bruise too?”
Tommy’s expression tightened.
“She falls when she gets hysterical.”
Chloe felt something inside her break.
For three years, Tommy had rewritten reality faster than she could defend herself.
She falls.
She misunderstands.
She starts things.
She makes him angry.
Roman turned toward her.
“Did you fall?”
Chloe stared at him.
“No.”
Tommy hit the window.
“She is lying!”
Roman did not flinch.
Tommy continued.
“She stole from me!”
That changed Roman’s attention.
“What?”
“Documents. Company files.”
Chloe’s face went pale.
Tommy saw it.
“There. Look at her.”
Roman looked.
But not the way Tommy wanted.
“Which company?”
Tommy hesitated.
“Kessler Logistics.”
Roman’s face became colder.
Chloe knew that name too.
Because Kessler Logistics belonged to Vincent Kessler.
Tommy’s uncle.
And Kessler Logistics moved freight for DeLuca Holdings.
Roman lowered the window another inch.
“Go home, Thomas.”
Tommy stared.
“Sir?”
“Walk away from my car.”
“But she has proprietary—”
“Thomas.”
One word.
Tommy’s mouth closed.
Roman leaned slightly toward the window.
“You have exactly ten seconds to decide whether tonight becomes embarrassing or permanent.”
Tommy stepped backward.
His cousins were already retreating.
But Tommy looked at Chloe.
The hatred in his face was unmistakable.
“This isn’t finished.”
Roman’s expression darkened.
“It is for tonight.”
The window rose.
Tommy disappeared behind rain-streaked glass.
Roman shifted the Audi into gear.
Only when they had traveled three blocks did Chloe realize she was crying.
She wiped her face angrily.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Your car.”
Roman glanced at the mirror.
“There’s nothing wrong with my car.”
“I broke in.”
“You chose well.”
Despite everything, a small hysterical laugh escaped her.
Roman noticed.
“Where were you going?”
“Port Authority.”
“Why?”
“To leave.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere Tommy wasn’t.”
Roman drove another block.
Then he said, “What did you take from Kessler Logistics?”
Chloe’s body tensed.
“Nothing.”
Roman glanced at her.
It was almost insulting how obvious he found the lie.
“Chloe.”
“I don’t know you.”
“That may be the smartest thing you’ve said tonight.”
“I’m not giving you anything.”
“You climbed into my car.”
“I was desperate.”
“Yes.”
His voice softened by a fraction.
“That part I believe.”
He pulled beneath the awning of a private garage.
Security doors lowered behind them.
Chloe reached for the handle.
Locked.
Fear surged.
Roman noticed immediately.
He unlocked every door.
The click echoed.
“You are not my prisoner.”
Chloe stared at him.
“Then where are we?”
“A garage beneath one of my buildings.”
“Why?”
“Because Thomas Kessler lied to my face.”
Roman turned around fully.
His eyes moved to the bruise on her cheek.
“And because the last time one of Vincent Kessler’s relatives lied to me, three million dollars disappeared.”
Chloe’s pulse changed.
Roman saw it.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“Another terrible lie.”
She looked toward the unlocked door.
Roman made no move to stop her.
That mattered.
Slowly, Chloe reached into the inside pocket of her torn jacket.
She removed a tiny aspirin bottle.
Roman’s expression changed.
She opened it.
Pulled out the flash drive.
Set it between them.
Roman stared at it.
“What’s on there?”
Chloe’s voice shook.
“Accounts Tommy thought I was too stupid to understand.”
Roman picked up the drive.
“Accounts belonging to whom?”
She looked into the eyes of the most feared man in Manhattan.
“Yours.”
For the first time that night, Roman DeLuca looked genuinely surprised.
Chloe continued.
“Someone has been stealing from you for almost two years.”
Roman’s gaze sharpened.
“How much?”
“At least eighteen million dollars.”
Silence filled the armored car.
Then Chloe added the part that had made her decide to run.
“And that isn’t the worst thing I found.”
Roman’s voice became almost inaudible.
“What is?”
May you like
She swallowed.
“One of those accounts paid somebody to kill you.”
