Chapter 2 - “Good. I’d hate to discover you also control my leaking kitchen sink.”
His mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
Then his phone rang.
Roman answered.
“Yes.”
His expression changed as he listened.
“What time?”
A pause.
“Seal the club. No one leaves until I arrive.”
He ended the call.
Norah felt tension move through the car.
“What happened?”
Roman looked at her.
“The ledger from booth four is missing.”
“The one you were writing in?”
“Yes.”
“Was it important?”
“It contained the names of every city official taking payments from my family.”
Norah stared.
“That sounds illegal.”
“It was.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you were the last person near it.”
The warmth left the car.
Norah sat very still.
“You think I took it?”
“I think someone wants me to believe you did.”
A cold sensation crawled along her spine.
“Why?”
Roman’s gaze dropped to the white handkerchief around her wrist.
“Because tonight, everyone saw me notice you.”
And for the first time since Norah had called him baby, Roman Gallagher did not look amused.
He looked afraid.
Roman took Norah back to the Onyx Club before dawn.
The main floor was dark now, the music gone, the air heavy with spilled alcohol and stale perfume. Employees stood in small frightened groups while Roman’s men searched lockers, offices, and trash bins.
No one spoke above a whisper.
Norah followed Roman into the private suite.
Booth four looked exactly as they had left it except for the empty space where the leather ledger had been.
Roman stopped beside the table.
“Tell me everything you touched.”
“The napkin. The glass.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
“Did anyone approach the booth after you left?”
“I was behind the bar. I couldn’t see the whole room.”
Mia stood near the door, pale and trembling.
Roman turned to her.
“You saw something.”
Mia shook her head too quickly.
“No.”
Roman said nothing.
Mia’s eyes filled.
Norah stepped between them.
“Don’t frighten her.”
One of the guards gave Norah an incredulous look.
Roman’s gaze remained on Mia.
“I am not frightening her.”
“You don’t have to raise your voice to frighten people.”
His eyes moved to Norah.
“What would you prefer?”
“Ask her like she’s human.”
For a long moment, the only sound was the hum of the air-conditioning.
Then Roman looked back at Mia.
“Please,” he said.
Mia’s lips parted.
She glanced toward the service corridor.
“I saw Mr. Vale.”
Roman’s face hardened.
“Sebastian Vale?”
Mia nodded.
“He came through the kitchen after you left the booth. I thought he was one of your men.”
“He is.”
“He went inside for maybe thirty seconds. Then he left through the employee exit.”
Roman pulled out his phone.
“Find Vale.”
The guard beside him left immediately.
Norah looked at Roman.
“Who is he?”
“My cousin.”
“And he stole the ledger?”
“If he did, he will not live long enough to sell it.”
The cold certainty in his voice made Norah’s stomach tighten.
“You say things like that very casually.”
Roman turned toward her.
“In my world, hesitation gets people buried.”
“In mine, it gets people fired.”
“Your world is kinder.”
“No,” Norah said. “It just uses smaller weapons.”
Something in Roman’s expression shifted.
He looked away first.
By sunrise, Roman had moved Norah into a hotel.
Not invited.
Moved.
Two guards stood outside the suite. Another waited in the lobby.
Norah paced across a carpet that probably cost more than her annual salary.
“This is kidnapping.”
Roman stood near the windows, phone in hand.
“You came willingly.”
“I came because you said someone might kill me.”
“That was true.”
“You could have called the police.”
Roman looked at her.
She sighed.
“Right. Illegal ledger.”
He put the phone away.
“The people named in that book include police captains.”
Norah folded her arms.
“So what happens now?”
“We find Vale.”
“And then?”
“You go home.”
“What if my home isn’t safe?”
“It won’t be.”
She stared at him.
Roman walked toward a side table and poured water into a glass.
“You will move.”
“With what money?”
“I will pay.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“Norah.”
“I am not taking an apartment from a man who threatened to kill his cousin in front of me.”
“I did not threaten him.”
“That is not comforting.”
Roman set the glass down harder than necessary.
“You are in danger because of me.”
“I’m in danger because your family steals ledgers and bombs fiancées.”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Roman went still.
Norah immediately regretted them.
“I’m sorry.”
“Who told you?”
“Mia.”
His face closed.
She stepped closer, carefully.
“What was her name?”
He did not answer.
Norah waited.
Finally, he said, “Elena.”
The name sounded fragile in his mouth.
“What happened?”
Roman looked toward the windows.
“She was leaving a restaurant. The car exploded before I reached the curb.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So was everyone.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“No,” he said. “It rarely is.”
Norah saw something then.
Not grief exactly.
Grief was too clean a word.
What lived inside Roman was guilt calcified into bone.
He carried it as punishment.
“Was the bombing meant for you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You think she died because of you.”
“She did.”
“No. Someone killed her because of them.”
His eyes snapped to hers.
Norah did not look away.
“You didn’t build the bomb,” she said. “You didn’t put her in the car.”
“I made her part of my life.”
“That still doesn’t make you the murderer.”
Roman stared at her as if no one had ever said that to him before.
Then his phone rang.
The moment vanished.
He answered.
His expression sharpened.
“Where?”
A pause.
“I’m coming.”
He hung up.
“They found Vale.”
Sebastian Vale was tied to a chair inside an abandoned printing warehouse near the river.
Norah was not supposed to be there.
She insisted.
Roman hated it.
That was partly why she came.
Rain struck the metal roof in hard bursts. Old presses stood beneath dusty tarps, their iron shapes looming like sleeping animals.
Sebastian was younger than Norah expected. Early thirties. Dark blond hair. Expensive suit ruined by blood at the collar.
He looked at Roman and laughed weakly.
“You brought the waitress.”
Roman stood in front of him.
“Where is the ledger?”
Sebastian’s eyes moved to Norah.
“She has Elena’s eyes.”
The room changed.
Roman’s face emptied.
Norah felt cold.
“What did you say?” she asked.
Sebastian smiled through split lips.
“You didn’t tell her?”
Roman grabbed him by the throat.
The chair legs scraped violently across concrete.
“Say her name again.”
Sebastian wheezed.
Norah caught Roman’s arm.
“Stop.”
He did not move.
“Roman.”
His grip loosened.
Sebastian coughed, then laughed again.
“She deserves to know.”
“Know what?” Norah asked.
Roman turned away.
Sebastian leaned forward as far as the ropes allowed.
“Elena wasn’t Roman’s fiancée.”
Norah looked at Roman.
“What was she?”
Sebastian’s smile widened.
“His wife.”
The words struck harder than expected.
Norah did not understand why.
Roman had owed her nothing. They had known each other less than a day.
Still, something inside her recoiled.
“You were married?”
Roman’s eyes stayed on Sebastian.
“Yes.”
“Why does everyone call her your fiancée?”
“Because the marriage was private.”
“Why?”
Sebastian answered.
“Because Elena was an undercover federal agent.”
Roman spun toward him.
Norah stopped breathing.
Sebastian’s voice turned almost tender.
“She married him to build a case against the Gallagher family.”
Roman’s fist hit Sebastian’s face.
The chair toppled.
Norah flinched at the crack of bone against concrete.
Roman stood over him, chest rising and falling.
Sebastian spat blood.
“But she fell in love with him,” he said. “That was the problem.”
Norah looked at Roman.
He did not deny it.
Sebastian laughed softly.
“She stopped reporting. Tried to run. Then the family found out.”
“Which family member?” Norah asked.
Sebastian looked at her.
“Roman’s father.”
The warehouse seemed to tilt.
Roman’s father, Patrick Gallagher, had died two years earlier. His funeral had shut down half the city.
Roman crouched beside Sebastian.
“Where is the ledger?”
Sebastian’s expression changed.
The humor disappeared.
“I didn’t take it.”
Mia’s testimony flashed through Norah’s mind.
“I saw you,” she said.
“No,” Sebastian replied. “You saw someone wearing my coat.”
Roman looked at Norah.
Sebastian continued.
“The ledger was already gone when I entered the booth.”
“Then why run?” Roman asked.
“Because I saw who took it.”
“Who?”
Sebastian looked toward Norah.
“I was trying to protect her.”
Roman rose.
“From whom?”
Sebastian’s eyes filled with something close to pity.
“Ask her boyfriend.”
David’s apartment was empty.
The front door hung open.
Roman’s men searched every room.
Norah stood in the kitchen, staring at the unpaid electric bill on the counter.
David had not taken his clothes.
He had not taken his laptop.
But his passport was gone.
Roman entered carrying a photograph.
He placed it on the table.
Norah looked down.
The image showed David sitting inside a café with Sebastian Vale.
The date in the corner was three months earlier.
Her stomach dropped.
“No.”
“Vale was watching David,” Roman said.
“Why?”
“He suspected someone close to you was being paid.”
“Paid to do what?”
Roman slid another photograph across the table.
It showed Norah leaving the Onyx Club after a shift.
David stood across the street.
Behind him was a black sedan.
Inside the sedan sat a silver-haired man Norah recognized from newspapers.
Vincent Gallagher.
Roman’s uncle.
Current head of the Gallagher family council.
Norah gripped the edge of the table.
“I don’t understand.”
Roman’s voice was quiet.
“David was assigned to you.”
“Assigned?”
“To watch you.”
“Why would anyone watch me?”
Roman did not answer.
May you like
Norah looked at him.
“Why?”
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