Chapter 3 - Millions of people moved far below.
No 1 knew where she was.
Then the private elevator chimed.
Harper froze.
Dominic’s warning returned.
Stay in the room.
She approached the door anyway.
Harper opened it only enough to see the living area.
The elevator doors separated.
4 men entered.
Leo was familiar.
The other 3 were not.
Unlike Dominic’s usual men, they wore leather jackets, dark jeans, and heavy boots.
1 carried a black canvas duffel.
Dominic waited beside the glass coffee table.
His hands rested in his trouser pockets.
The man who had poured Harper coffee that morning had disappeared.
The person in the living room now looked entirely predatory.
“You’re late.”
“Traffic on the bridge.”
The man with the bag threw it onto the table.
The impact made Harper flinch.
“It’s all there.”
He looked at Dominic.
“$2 million.”
“Cleaned and washed.”
“Exactly as agreed.”
Dominic never looked at the money.
He looked at the messenger.
“Rossy sent you?”
“Rossy is busy.”
The man sneered.
“He told us to leave the money and collect the dock clearance codes.”
His bravado became louder.
“We don’t have all day.”
Dominic slowly removed his hands from his pockets.
He took 1 step.
The 3 visitors instinctively moved backward.
“Rossy does not send foot soldiers with my money.”
Dominic’s voice stayed quiet.
“He brings it himself.”
His gaze did not leave the man.
“Because Rossy respects the arrangement.”
“Things change.”
The messenger shifted.
“You have the cash.”
“We need the codes.”
He pointed toward the bag.
“Count it if you want.”
Dominic still did not look.
He gave Leo a nearly invisible nod.
Violence happened instantly.
Leo caught the messenger by the throat and belt.
He lifted him.
Then slammed his face against the glass table.
The glass held.
The man’s nose did not.
The crack echoed through the penthouse.
The other 2 reached inside their coats.
Before either cleared a weapon, Dominic’s men appeared with guns already pressed against their heads.
Harper stumbled away from the door.
She covered her mouth and fell backward onto the bed.
Low groans came from the living room.
She shut her eyes.
Dominic’s warning at the nightclub finally made complete sense.
If strangers remembered her face, they could use her.
This was not entertainment.
Not a fantasy.
People were injured because Dominic decided they would be injured.
10 minutes passed.
The penthouse became silent again.
The elevator chimed.
The strangers were gone.
Then someone knocked on Harper’s door.
She jumped.
Dominic entered.
His white shirt remained clean.
His breathing was normal.
Nothing about him suggested what had occurred in the next room.
His eyes moved over Harper.
Pale face.
Trembling hands.
Body pressed against the headboard.
“You did not stay away from the door.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
Harper lied immediately.
“I swear.”
Dominic sighed.
Then he entered fully and closed the door.
The latch clicked.
The sound reminded Harper of the nightclub.
“Do not lie to me.”
He approached slowly.
“I tolerate many things.”
His eyes hardened.
“Lying is not 1 of them.”
Dominic stopped approximately 2 ft away.
Then he removed a small silver object from his pocket.
He tossed it onto the bed.
A burner phone.
“Your window just became smaller.”
Harper looked at him.
“Rossy is attempting to bypass me.”
Dominic’s face remained unreadable.
“That means war is beginning.”
His gaze moved toward the phone.
“And war means this penthouse is no longer secure.”
“What does that mean?”
Harper’s voice barely carried.
“Pack your duffel.”
Dominic spoke softly.
“We leave in 10 minutes.”
He turned toward the door.
“If you want to survive the weekend, you follow every instruction I give you.”
10 minutes.
That was all.
Harper did not argue.
The memory of bone striking glass had removed the desire.
Her hands shook so badly she struggled with the zipper.
When she entered the hallway, the penthouse looked untouched.
The glass table had been cleaned.
No blood.
No scuffing.
Nothing.
Dominic stood beside the elevator in a heavy wool overcoat.
A black leather travel bag sat beside him.
He nodded toward the open elevator.
They descended silently.
The SUV waited below.
This time, there was no convoy.
No additional escort vehicle.
Only Leo behind the wheel.
Harper put her bag on the floor and climbed into the back.
Dominic entered beside her.
Gunpowder and cold rain clung to his coat.
“Drive.”
The SUV accelerated from the garage.
Rain struck the city in heavy sheets.
Neon and brake lights smeared across the windows.
Harper pulled her knees toward herself.
Dominic scrolled through a secure tablet.
Blue light illuminated his face.
He looked calm.
“Where are we going?”
“Away from the blast radius.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Dominic locked the tablet.
Then he turned toward her.
“Rossy made a play.”
His tone could have described a routine business dispute.
“He tried to bypass me.”
“Drop the money.”
“Take the clearance codes.”
Dominic’s expression remained cold.
“That means he believes I am weak.”
He continued.
“It also means he has surveillance on my properties.”
His eyes rested on Harper.
“You are a liability I do not have time to protect inside a war zone.”
“Then let me go.”
Harper lowered her feet.
“Leave me at a subway station.”
“I’ll disappear.”
She leaned forward.
“Rossy doesn’t even know who I am.”
“His spotters saw a blonde woman enter my SUV 2 nights ago.”
Dominic’s voice darkened.
“In my world, a woman getting into my private vehicle is 1 of 2 things.”
“A highly paid escort.”
“Or a critical weakness.”
Harper’s stomach tightened.
“They will obtain security footage.”
Dominic continued.
“They will identify your face.”
“They will find your apartment.”
He looked directly at her.
“Your cat.”
A pause.
“Your pathetic fiancé.”
His voice flattened.
“And they will use those things to force me into the open.”
Harper’s breath caught.
“I don’t matter to you.”
A tear moved down her face.
“They don’t know that.”
Dominic’s answer was immediate.
The SUV joined the interstate heading north.
The city disappeared behind them.
2 hours passed.
Harper drifted in and out of frightened exhaustion.
Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the man’s face hitting the glass table.
Each time, she woke abruptly.
Dominic remained beside her.
Still.
Silent.
Eventually, tires changed from pavement to gravel.
The SUV stopped outside a weathered house on a rocky cliff above the ocean.
It looked less like a mob retreat than an abandoned fisherman’s home that had been slowly fortified.
Missing shingles.
Sagging porch.
Rain hammering old wood.
Dominic opened the door.
Ocean wind flooded inside.
“Get out.”
Harper grabbed her duffel.
The cold cut immediately through her sweater.
Leo removed a heavy Pelican case from the rear.
Weapons, Harper assumed.
Dominic unlocked the house.
Then he locked the deadbolt behind them.
Inside, the building revealed its real purpose.
Steel shutters covered the windows.
Heavy oak and worn leather furniture filled the rooms.
A massive stone fireplace dominated the living area.
Leo put the weapons case on the dining table.
“Perimeter secure.”
He looked toward Dominic.
“Cameras are up.”
“I’ll take first watch in the tree line.”
“Radio only for emergencies.”
Dominic’s answer was brief.
Leo disappeared into the rain.
Harper stood with her bag against her chest.
The isolation was overwhelming.
No traffic.
No city.
No neighbors.
Only waves crashing against rock.
And Dominic.
He went into the kitchen, turned on 1 dim light, and opened the refrigerator.
“There is a bedroom down the hallway.”
He removed water.
“No windows.”
“Solid corridor.”
His eyes moved toward her.
“You sleep there.”
Harper did not move.
“How long?”
Dominic drank.
Then finally looked at her.
The fatigue was visible now.
“Until Rossy is in the ground.”
His voice lowered.
“Or I am.”
Midnight passed.
Harper remained awake in the windowless bedroom.
On Monday, she had argued with a florist about the exact shade of hydrangeas for her wedding.
By Thursday, she was living inside a fortified hideout with a man who commanded armed killers.
Her stomach cramped.
She had barely eaten since the penthouse.
Fear had suppressed hunger.
It could not eliminate it indefinitely.
Harper left the bedroom.
The living room was mostly dark.
Only embers from the fireplace remained.
Dominic sat in a worn leather chair.
He wore dark sweatpants and a gray T-shirt.
The clothing exposed old scars and heavy muscle.
A black handgun lay dismantled across his lap.
Slide.
Spring.
Barrel.
His hands moved with practiced precision.
“If you’re going to stand there, do something useful.”
He never looked up.
“There’s pasta in the refrigerator.”
“Heat it.”
Harper’s irritation briefly overcame fear.
“I’m not your maid.”
Dominic stopped cleaning the gun.
Then he looked at her.
Firelight cast harsh shadows over his face.
“You’re shaking.”
His voice remained flat.
“You’re pale.”
“Your blood sugar is dropping.”
He returned his attention to the weapon.
“You are useless to me unconscious.”
A pause.
“Heat the food and eat it.”
His eyes lifted again.
“Or I will come over there and feed you myself.”
Harper believed him.
She went into the kitchen.
The microwave counted downward while she leaned against the counter.
When the food was ready, she took 2 forks and carried the container into the living room.
She sat on the edge of the opposite sofa.
Dominic finished assembling the handgun.
He chambered it.
Engaged the safety.
Placed it on the side table.
Then he took 1 fork.
They ate silently.
The pasta was rich and spicy.
Harper ate quickly.
The act of eating made the room seem temporarily normal.
“You cook?”
She eventually asked.
“Leo cooks.”
Dominic took another bite.
“I eat.”
Harper stabbed a piece of penne.
“I thought mobsters were supposed to eat at expensive Italian restaurants with red-checkered tablecloths.”
“You watch too many films.”
Dominic drank whiskey.
“And you break too many noses in your living room.”
The sentence left Harper before she could stop it.
Everything changed.
She froze with her fork halfway raised.
Dominic slowly put down the glass.
Then he leaned back.
His fingers came together.
“I do what is necessary to maintain order in a world built on chaos.”
His voice stayed quiet.
“The men in my apartment came to steal.”
His eyes held hers.
“They violated a boundary.”
Dominic leaned slightly forward.
“In my world, when a boundary is violated, the response must be immediate and overwhelming.”
He paused.
“Otherwise, you die.”
“It was money.”
Harper’s voice trembled.
“It is never only money.”
Dominic’s expression sharpened.
“It is respect.”
“Leverage.”
Then he looked directly into her.
“Your regional manager did the same thing.”
Harper went still.
“He did not simply cheat.”
Dominic continued.
“He looked at the boundary of your relationship.”
May you like
“Decided he did not respect you enough to honor it.”
“And crossed it deliberately.”
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