Chapter 6 - The Night He Came Without His Guards
The first time Dominic Varga appeared at Hank's Diner without an escort, Mave assumed he had finally lost his mind.
It was Sunday evening, a little after seven.
She was standing beside the coffee machine, counting the money in the register and trying to determine whether she could afford to replace the diner’s broken refrigerator before the end of the month.
Toby was at home with their neighbor, Mrs. Alvarez, who had agreed to watch him for two hours in exchange for Mave bringing her groceries from the market.
The dinner rush had ended.
Only two customers remained.
Then the bell above the door rang.
Mave looked up.
Dominic stood in the entrance wearing dark jeans, a black sweater, and a charcoal coat.
He looked thinner than he had on the night of the shooting. His complexion was still pale, and he moved with the careful restraint of a man who was trying to conceal pain.
But he was standing.
And he was alone.
Mave set down the calculator.
“No.”
Dominic stopped just inside the door.
“Good evening to you, too.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Having dinner.”
She looked past him toward the parking lot.
No black SUVs.
No bodyguards.
No attorney carrying an envelope.
Just an ordinary sedan parked beside the curb.
“You came here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“I would have noticed if someone followed me inside.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
He understood.
“I came without security.”
Mave stared at him.
“You are either very brave or very stupid.”
“Those have occasionally been difficult to distinguish.”
She should have asked him to leave.
Instead, she noticed the way he was holding his left side, the slight stiffness in his shoulders, and the shadows beneath his eyes.
“You're supposed to be recovering.”
“I am recovering.”
“Your surgeon would disagree.”
“My surgeon disagrees with most things I do.”
“That's because you keep doing things you shouldn't.”
A faint smile appeared on his face.
“I've heard that before.”
Mave picked up a menu and placed it on the counter.
“Sit down. I'll bring you something to eat.”
He glanced at the menu.
“Is that an invitation?”
“No. It's a warning. If you collapse in here, I'm charging you for another cleaning service.”
He chose booth four.
The same booth where he had nearly died.
Mave noticed him looking at the repaired upholstery.
“Cheap replacement,” she said.
“I can tell.”
“Then don't complain.”
“I wasn't going to.”
She brought him a glass of water and a plate of grilled chicken with vegetables.
He examined the food.
“Do you always feed customers without asking what they want?”
“Only the ones who arrive looking like they've forgotten how to eat.”
Dominic took a bite.
For several minutes, they sat in silence.
Mave returned to the counter and continued counting the register. She could feel his attention on her, but she refused to acknowledge it.
Finally, he spoke.
“Adrian told me about the photographs.”
Mave stopped counting.
“He shouldn't have had to tell you. I sent you the information myself.”
“I know.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“Because I wanted to tell you that we've identified a possible connection between the person watching you and an old business associate of mine.”
She placed the bills into a neat stack.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
“Good. Because it doesn't.”
Dominic set down his fork.
“The man is called Victor Hale. He's a businessman with interests in shipping, private security, and medical administration. We believe he may be connected to the people responsible for the shooting.”
“Why would a businessman want you dead?”
“Because my business interests conflict with his.”
“And the hospital?”
“We're investigating.”
Mave looked at him.
“Do you think someone arranged for me to be fired?”
“I don't know.”
She leaned against the counter.
“That's the second time you've told me that.”
“Would you prefer I lie?”
“No. I would prefer you knew something.”
“So would I.”
For a moment, she saw the exhaustion beneath his composure.
It was not the physical exhaustion of a man recovering from surgery. It was something older, something that had accumulated over years of making decisions that could never be undone.
She recognized it.
She had carried her own version of it for years.
“Why did you come here?” she asked.
Dominic considered the question.
“I wanted to speak to you without an attorney, a bodyguard, or someone trying to persuade you to accept money.”
“And?”
“And I wanted to apologize.”
Mave blinked.
She had expected an explanation.
Perhaps an offer.
She had not expected an apology.
“For what?”
“For making decisions about your life without asking you.”
She remained silent.
Dominic continued.
“I believed that sending security to your diner would protect you. I didn't consider how it would feel to have strangers watching your workplace after someone had already threatened your family.”
He paused.
“I was wrong.”
Mave studied him carefully.
“You understand that saying you're wrong doesn't undo anything?”
“Yes.”
“And it doesn't mean I'll suddenly trust you.”
“I know.”
“Then why apologize?”
“Because you deserved one.”
The answer was simple.
No excuses.
No attempt to make himself the victim of circumstances.
Mave looked down at the counter.
She had spent years hearing people explain why their behavior was justified. Her son's father had promised to return when things settled down. Her former supervisor had said the hospital couldn't make exceptions. Her landlord had explained that rising costs affected everyone.
Everyone had reasons.
Few people accepted responsibility.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Dominic nodded.
He returned to his meal.
Mave resumed counting the register, although she had lost track of the total.
After a few minutes, she brought him a cup of coffee.
“On the house.”
He looked at the cup.
“Is this another warning?”
“It's coffee, Dominic.”
“Then I'll try to behave.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
He returned the following week.
This time, he arrived at four in the afternoon, when the diner was nearly empty.
Mave was sitting in the corner booth during her break, working through a stack of bills.
Dominic approached slowly.
“May I sit?”
She looked at the empty seat across from her.
“You already know where the chairs are.”
“I'm trying to ask permission.”
She studied him for a moment.
Then she moved her purse off the seat.
“Fine.”
He sat.
Mave returned to the bill in front of her.
Dominic glanced at the figures.
“Rent?”
“Among other things.”
“How much do you need?”
She looked up sharply.
“Don't.”
“I was asking—”
“I know what you were asking.”
She gathered the papers and placed them inside her purse.
“If you want to help me, tell me who sent those photographs. Tell me whether my son is safe. Tell me whether I should be looking for another job or another apartment.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“Fair enough.”
He took out his phone.
“I have an update about Victor Hale. He owns a company that provided administrative services to several hospitals, including Mercy General. One of his former employees handled compliance audits.”
Mave's expression changed.
“Who?”
“Arthur Bellamy.”
She searched her memory.
The name sounded familiar.
“Was he working there two years ago?”
“Yes.”
Mave leaned forward.
“He was the man who interviewed me after the medication incident.”
Dominic's eyes sharpened.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. He sat in the conference room with Dr. Reeves. He asked me the same questions three times, and then he told me my answers were inconsistent.”
“Did you know him before the investigation?”
“No.”
“Did he ever contact you afterward?”
Mave shook her head.
“Not until now.”
Dominic waited.
She frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Looking at me as though you're trying to decide whether to tell me something.”
He leaned back.
“I was wondering whether you remembered anything unusual about the interview.”
Mave thought about it.
The conference room had been cold.
Dr. Reeves had sat at one end of the table, while Bellamy had positioned himself beside a laptop. A stack of printed records lay between them.
She remembered being exhausted.
She remembered explaining that Toby had been sick and that she had taken the medication because she could not afford the prescription.
But there was something else.
A detail she had dismissed at the time.
“He had a folder with him,” she said.
“What was unusual about it?”
“It had the hospital's logo on the front, but the papers inside weren't hospital forms. They looked like shipping invoices.”
Dominic went completely still.
“Shipping invoices?”
“I don't know what they were. I only saw them when he opened the folder.”
“Did you recognize any names?”
Mave closed her eyes.
She had spent two years trying not to remember that meeting.
Now the details returned in fragments.
“There was a company name. Something like Northstar Logistics.”
Dominic's expression changed so abruptly that she noticed immediately.
“What?”
“Northstar Logistics was one of the companies connected to my father's shipping business.”
Mave stared at him.
“Your father?”
“He died eleven years ago.”
“I'm sorry.”
Dominic accepted the words with a slight nod.
“The warehouse fire I told you about was officially blamed on faulty wiring. Northstar Logistics was involved in the investigation afterward. Several records disappeared.”
Mave felt cold.
“You think the hospital investigation was connected to that?”
“I think it's possible.”
“But why would anyone involve me?”
“Because you may have seen something they didn't want anyone to remember.”
She looked down at her hands.
For two years, she had believed the worst thing she had done was take medication without permission.
Now she was beginning to understand that the incident might have been used to remove her from a place where she had accidentally seen something dangerous.
“What happens now?” she asked.
Dominic did not answer immediately.
Then he said, “We find the records.”
“We?”
“If you're willing.”
Mave looked at him.
She knew what she should say.
She should tell him to handle his own problems. She should remind him that she had a child, a job, and a life that had nothing to do with shipping companies or criminal organizations.
But she also remembered the photographs.
She remembered the threat.
And she remembered how easily her career had been destroyed by people who had never cared whether she was telling the truth.
“I want to see the evidence,” she said.
Dominic nodded.
“Then I'll show you what we have.”
“And I want to speak to Dr. Reeves again.”
“I'll arrange a meeting.”
“Not you. Me.”
He considered the distinction.
Then he nodded.
“All right.”
Mave gathered her bills and slipped them into her purse.
“There's one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If we do this, I make the decisions about my son. You don't move him. You don't contact his school without telling me. And you don't send armed men into my apartment.”
“Agreed.”
She searched his face.
“You're getting better at this.”
“At what?”
“Listening.”
A faint smile appeared on his face.
“Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”
For the first time since the shooting, Mave laughed without feeling guilty about it.
It was a small sound.
But Dominic watched her as though it mattered.
That evening, Dominic returned to his penthouse and found a message waiting from Rafe.
The investigators had located a former Northstar Logistics employee who had kept copies of several internal documents before the company dissolved.
The employee was willing to talk.
But he had one condition.
He wanted to meet Dominic in person.
Dominic read the message twice.
Then he called Rafe.
“Where is he?”
“Staying in a motel outside the city.”
“Name?”
“Paul Mercer. Former accounts manager.”
Dominic looked toward the windows.
Chicago glittered beneath the evening sky, beautiful and indifferent.
“Arrange the meeting.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tonight.”
Rafe hesitated.
“Boss, you're not cleared to travel.”
“Then don't tell the doctor.”
“Dominic—”
“Rafe.”
A long sigh came through the phone.
“Understood.”
Dominic ended the call.
He looked at the photograph of Mave and Toby on his desk.
Someone had tried to use her past to frighten her into silence.
They had failed.
Now she was asking questions.
And the deeper they went, the more likely it became that the answers would lead directly to the people who had spent eleven years making sure the truth stayed buried.
Dominic had spent most of his life believing that every secret had a price.
May you like
He was beginning to suspect that this one would cost him far more than money.
It might cost him the only chance he had ever had to become something other than the man his father had taught him to be.
