Chapter 5 - SmokeSadie arrived at the restaurant the next afternoon at 4:17.
Declan was going to be furious.
That knowledge improved her mood considerably.
She had spent the entire morning obeying him accidentally.
She had stayed home.
She had tried to sleep.
She had stared at the ceiling.
She had made coffee.
She had thrown away the coffee because her hands were shaking too badly to drink it.
By noon, she realized fear was a flavor that grew stronger when allowed to reduce.
So she stopped reducing it.
She showered, tied her hair back, packed her knives, and went to work.
The front doors were locked.
She entered through the alley.
Two unfamiliar men in dark coats stood near the dumpsters.
One moved to block her.
“Restaurant’s closed.”
Sadie held up her key.
“I work here.”
“Not tonight.”
“Move.”
The man looked almost impressed.
Then a familiar voice came from behind him.
“She means it.”
Declan stood beneath the fire escape.
He was dressed in black again, rain collecting in tiny droplets across the shoulders of his coat.
His face looked carved from exhaustion.
Sadie pushed past the guard.
“You told them to lock me out?”
“Yes.”
“Cute.”
“This is not a joke.”
“Neither is losing an entire day of prep because your men think refrigeration is magic.”
“No food is being served.”
“That makes me feel much better about the armed ambush you’re planning in my dining room.”
Declan’s jaw flexed.
“Go home.”
“No.”
“Sadie.”
“Declan.”
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes.
His men very carefully looked elsewhere.
Sadie walked past him and pulled open the steel kitchen door.
He caught it before it closed.
“Five minutes.”
She glanced back.
“What?”
“You have 5 minutes to collect whatever you believe is so critically important that you’re willing to risk your life for it.”
“My sourdough starter.”
Declan stared at her.
Sadie shrugged.
“I’ve had it for 6 years.”
For the first time, one of his guards made a sound that was unmistakably a laugh.
Declan turned his head.
The man immediately became fascinated with a brick wall.
Sadie stepped inside.
The kitchen was dark except for the security lights.
No staff.
No simmering stock.
No hiss of flame.
She hated it immediately.
She moved toward the walk-in.
Declan followed.
“You are leaving after this.”
“Maybe.”
“That word is beginning to irritate me.”
“Good.”
Sadie opened the refrigerator.
Cold air washed over her.
Something was wrong.
She stopped.
Declan nearly walked into her.
“What?”
Sadie raised one hand.
“Quiet.”
He actually obeyed.
She breathed in slowly.
Cold dairy.
Raw vegetables.
Plastic.
Metal shelving.
Yeast from the starter container.
And underneath everything—
Something sharp.
Artificial.
Not rot.
Not food.
Sadie’s scalp prickled.
She closed the door.
“Don’t turn on any flames.”
Declan’s entire posture changed.
“Why?”
“I smell gas.”
His eyes sharpened.
Sadie moved toward the range without touching anything.
The scent grew stronger.
Not overwhelming.
Just wrong.
“Did anybody use the kitchen today?”
“No.”
“Did your men touch the range?”
“No.”
“Did maintenance come?”
“No.”
Declan pulled out his phone.
Sadie grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t switch anything.”
His gaze dropped to her hand.
Sadie released him immediately.
“Electrical spark.”
He put the phone away.
The restaurant suddenly felt enormous.
Silent.
Full of invisible threat.
Sadie pointed toward the back.
“Everyone out.”
Declan did not argue.
That terrified her more than if he had.
He gave a sharp hand signal toward the doorway.
Within seconds, the men outside were moving.
Sadie headed toward the steel alley exit.
Then she heard it.
A faint hiss.
Behind the range.
Her eyes moved to the lower connection beneath the massive French top.
The line had been disturbed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Her stomach dropped.
“Go,” Declan said.
Sadie backed away.
Then the overhead lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the kitchen.
Somewhere near the dining room, glass shattered.
Declan grabbed Sadie around the waist and pulled her down.
A fraction of a second later, something struck the exterior window.
The glass fractured in a violent starburst.
Sadie hit the floor.
Declan’s body covered hers.
There was another impact.
Then another.
Not explosions.
Gunshots.
The kitchen erupted into movement.
Men shouted outside.
Footsteps pounded through the dining room.
Sadie’s cheek pressed against cold quarry tile.
Declan’s hand was behind her head.
Protecting her skull.
“Stay down.”
His voice was not calm anymore.
It was raw.
Furious.
Alive.
Sadie could smell him everywhere.
Rain.
Wool.
Ozone.
And something else.
Fear.
Not his fear for himself.
Fear for her.
The realization was worse than the gunfire.
Declan lifted his head.
“Back exit.”
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
He dragged her upright anyway, keeping his body between hers and the broken window.
They moved.
Sadie’s shoes slipped on the tile.
The gas smell was stronger near the floor.
“Faster,” she said.
They reached the alley door.
Declan shoved it open.
Cold air tore into the kitchen.
One of his men stood outside with a weapon drawn.
“Car!”
Declan’s hand pressed between Sadie’s shoulder blades.
She stumbled forward.
Then stopped.
“My starter.”
Declan looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
“My sourdough starter is still inside.”
“Sadie.”
“I told you, 6 years.”
“Leave the bread.”
“It isn’t bread yet.”
His face became almost murderous.
Another gunshot cracked somewhere beyond the alley.
Declan physically lifted Sadie off the ground.
She swore.
“Put me down!”
“No.”
“You psychotic—”
He carried her the remaining distance to the SUV and shoved her into the back seat.
Then climbed in beside her.
The vehicle launched forward before the door had fully closed.
Sadie slammed into the leather seat.
“Where are we going?”
“A safe location.”
“I have a home.”
“Not anymore.”
Her head snapped toward him.
“What does that mean?”
Declan looked straight ahead.
“It means anybody who can photograph you in an alley can follow you to your apartment.”
Sadie’s stomach twisted.
“You already knew where I lived.”
“Yes.”
“Before the dinner.”
“Yes.”
“That’s incredibly creepy.”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
He did not apologize.
The SUV accelerated through wet streets.
Sadie became aware that Declan’s left hand was clenched hard against his side.
Too hard.
His breathing was shallow.
“Were you hit?”
“No.”
“Move your hand.”
“I said no.”
Sadie’s gaze dropped.
Darkness was spreading across his black shirt.
She smelled it before she fully saw it.
Iron.
Fresh.
Hot.
Her entire body changed.
“Declan.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
“Move your hand.”
“No.”
Sadie reached for him.
His eyes flashed.
“Do not.”
She stopped.
The memory returned.
Nobody touches me. Ever. Unless I initiate the contact.
Sadie’s hand hovered between them.
“Fine,” she said. “Then show me.”
Declan’s jaw tightened.
For several seconds, he did nothing.
Then, slowly, he lifted his hand.
A thin piece of glass had sliced through the fabric near his ribs. The wound did not appear catastrophic, but it was deep enough to bleed heavily.
Sadie swore.
The driver glanced in the mirror.
“Eyes forward,” Declan snapped.
Sadie pulled off her jacket.
“Press this against it.”
“I don’t need—”
“Press it.”
He looked at her.
Sadie raised an eyebrow.
Something strange happened.
Declan obeyed.
He folded the denim against his side.
His fingers tightened around it.
“You just ruined my jacket.”
“You volunteered it.”
“I regret everything.”
The SUV turned sharply.
Sadie looked out.
They were heading deeper into the city.
Not toward the hills.
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
“Absolutely not.”
“It is secured.”
“So is prison.”
“It’s cleaner.”
“Low bar.”
Declan leaned his head back against the seat.
His face had gone pale.
Sadie’s irritation evaporated.
“Are you dizzy?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
His eyes opened.
A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth.
“You’re learning.”
“Shut up.”
She moved closer.
Not touching.
Just watching his breathing.
The car continued through the rain.
Several minutes passed.
Then Declan spoke quietly.
“You smelled the gas before any of my men.”
Sadie looked out the window.
“I’m a chef.”
“That is not a normal chef skill.”
“It is when your entire professional life involves noticing tiny changes before they destroy something.”
Declan’s eyes remained on her.
“That is why I chose you.”
“For dinner?”
“For the restaurant.”
Sadie turned.
“You chose me before Richard disappeared?”
Declan said nothing.
Her stomach tightened.
“Declan.”
“Richard was going to be removed regardless.”
“You knew I would replace him.”
“I knew you already ran the kitchen.”
The words landed softly.
Too softly.
Sadie thought of Richard screaming, taking credit, disappearing into his office while she fixed every disaster on the line.
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“How far?”
Declan stared ahead.
“Far enough.”
The anger returned immediately.
“You do not get to decide which parts of my life are available to you.”
“I decide what I need to know to keep threats away from my businesses.”
“I wasn’t your business.”
“You are now.”
Sadie laughed bitterly.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The collar.”
His face changed.
“Sadie—”
“No. You keep dressing it up. Job. Protection. Security. Ownership. It all means the same thing to you.”
The SUV went silent.
Even the driver seemed to breathe more quietly.
Sadie leaned back.
“You cannot protect something without believing it belongs to you.”
Declan stared at her.
For once, he had no immediate answer.
They reached a tower of black glass overlooking the river.
Underground doors opened.
The SUV descended.
By the time they reached the private elevator, Declan was noticeably weaker.
Sadie stopped arguing.
His apartment occupied the entire top floor.
Of course it did.
It was as cold and sterile as the estate.
Concrete.
Steel.
Dark glass.
No photographs.
No clutter.
No evidence that a human being actually lived there.
Sadie looked around.
“This place has the emotional warmth of a morgue.”
Declan removed his coat.
“Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment.”
“I know.”
He took 3 steps.
Then his knees buckled.
Sadie caught him badly.
Two hundred pounds of muscle and expensive clothing crashed against her shoulder.
“Declan!”
His hand caught the edge of a table.
He did not fall completely.
But the cold mask shattered.
Pain crossed his face.
Pure and involuntary.
Sadie guided him toward the kitchen.
His kitchen was predictably untouched.
She pushed him onto a stool.
“Shirt off.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“This is an unusually aggressive progression in our relationship.”
Sadie glared at him.
“If you flirt with me while bleeding on marble, I will let you die out of principle.”
A faint sound escaped him.
Almost laughter.
He unbuttoned the shirt.
Sadie’s hands stopped.
Scars covered his torso.
Old ones.
Thin white lines.
A puckered mark near his shoulder.
A long jagged scar beneath his ribs.
Violence had written itself across his body in a language Sadie did not want to understand.
The fresh cut was small by comparison.
Still, blood ran freely.
Sadie opened the medical kit one of his men brought upstairs.
She cleaned the wound.
Declan did not speak.
She could feel his entire body holding itself rigid beneath her fingertips.
“Does this hurt?”
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised her.
Sadie looked up.
His face was close.
Too close.
His eyes were not empty now.
They were exhausted.
“I thought men like you didn’t feel pain.”
“We feel it.”
“Then why pretend?”
“Because people hesitate before hurting something they believe cannot be hurt.”
Sadie’s fingers paused.
That sentence opened a door inside him.
Not much.
Only an inch.
But enough.
She finished dressing the wound.
When she stepped back, Declan caught her wrist.
Not violently.
Not possessively.
Just enough to stop her.
Sadie looked down at his hand.
Then at him.
“You came back tonight after I told you not to.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s my kitchen.”
His grip loosened.
He almost smiled.
Then he said quietly, “That answer is going to get you killed.”
Sadie’s chest tightened.
“Maybe.”
He released her.
Sadie picked up the bloody gauze and threw it away.
“What happened to the restaurant?”
“My people are clearing it.”
“And the gas?”
“Sabotage.”
“The shooting?”
“A distraction.”
“For what?”
Declan’s expression turned cold again.
“To see which exit I used.”
Sadie went still.
“They weren’t trying to kill you?”
“Not yet.”
“Then what were they doing?”
His eyes moved to her.
The silence gave her the answer.
Sadie felt cold spread through her body.
“They wanted to see if you would take me with you.”
Declan said nothing.
“Oh, God.”
“They know now.”
Sadie backed away.
Declan stood despite the pain.
“Sadie.”
“No.”
“They already believed you mattered.”
“And tonight you confirmed it.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
The single word destroyed the last illusion of safety.
Sadie wrapped her arms around herself.
“What happens now?”
Declan looked at her for a long time.
May you like
Then his gaze hardened into something lethal.
“Now I find out who taught Arthur where to aim.”
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