Chapter 3 - The Price of ProtectionThe first thing Norah learned about being protected by Declan Gallagher was that protection looked remarkably similar to imprisonment.
The executive floor was sealed within three minutes of the elevator doors opening.
Security shutters descended over the private entrances. Key-card access disappeared from half the building. Every employee still inside Gallagher Enterprises was quietly moved into conference rooms while Declan's security team checked identities, phones, bags, and access logs.
The senior director who had been standing outside the elevator was named Victor Hale.
Norah had known him for fourteen months.
Not well.
Nobody really knew senior executives at Gallagher Enterprises unless they were invited to know them.
Victor had always been polite to her. He remembered birthdays. He thanked assistants. He sent expensive wine to departments after successful quarters.
He had also apparently been waiting outside a broken elevator while someone pretending to be security tried to convince Declan Gallagher to step away from her.
That changed the meaning of every polite smile Norah could remember.
Victor now sat inside Conference Room Three with two security officers outside the glass doors.
He had requested an attorney.
Declan had requested that nobody let him leave.
Norah stood beside her desk watching the process unfold while a paramedic stitched the cut above Declan's eyebrow.
He had finally agreed to medical treatment after nearly collapsing against the elevator wall.
The fact that he was receiving stitches in the middle of the accounting department instead of going to a hospital told Norah everything she needed to know about how seriously he believed the building had been compromised.
"Hold still," the paramedic said.
Declan didn't move.
Norah stared at her computer.
The spreadsheet was still there.
Row 42.
Column C.
Three million dollars.
She had spent months treating those numbers as harmless administrative details.
Now she couldn't stop seeing the pattern.
Fourteen days.
Two days before major shipments.
Money moved through apparently legitimate vendor accounts before disappearing into companies she had never heard of.
Someone had built an operation inside Declan's company.
And somehow Norah had become part of it.
"Ms. Hastings."
She looked up.
A tall man in a dark suit stood near her desk.
Early forties. Close-cropped dark hair. Scar near his jaw.
She recognized him as Declan's head of security.
Ronan Doyle.
She had seen him many times before, usually three steps behind Declan at major company events.
"Mr. Doyle."
"Ronan."
Norah glanced at Declan.
He was listening despite the paramedic working on his forehead.
Ronan lowered his voice.
"We need to move you."
"Move me where?"
"Somewhere secure."
"I have an apartment."
"Not tonight."
Norah felt irritation immediately.
"Excuse me?"
Declan spoke from several feet away.
"Your address is in company records."
She turned.
"So?"
"So whoever accessed the financial system can probably access human resources."
"You don't know that."
"No."
Declan's eyes held hers.
"But I'm not gambling your life to find out."
The paramedic stepped back.
"Finished."
Declan stood.
Too quickly.
His face tightened.
Norah noticed.
So did Ronan.
Neither commented.
Declan buttoned the torn cuff of his white shirt as though physical appearance might restore some of the authority the evening had stripped away.
"Get Victor downstairs," he told Ronan.
"Private holding room?"
"Yes."
Ronan hesitated.
"Police?"
"Not yet."
Norah stared at him.
"You're holding a man against his will?"
Victor's voice came through the conference room glass before Declan could answer.
"You can't keep me here, Gallagher!"
Declan slowly turned toward him.
Victor stood behind the glass.
His calm executive mask had disappeared.
"This is kidnapping!"
Declan walked toward the room.
Norah followed before she realized she was doing it.
Victor pointed through the glass.
"Ask her."
Norah stopped.
Declan did too.
Victor smiled.
"There she is. The innocent accountant."
"I'm not an accountant," Norah said.
His smile widened.
"Of course you aren't."
Declan stepped closer to the glass.
"Choose your next words carefully."
Victor ignored him.
He stared at Norah.
"Do you know who recommended you for this job?"
Norah's pulse changed.
Declan's expression became still.
"Victor."
The warning in his voice was unmistakable.
Victor laughed.
"You still haven't told her?"
Norah turned toward Declan.
"What is he talking about?"
Declan didn't answer quickly enough.
Victor did.
"Ask Gallagher why your résumé appeared on his desk when there wasn't even an open position."
Norah's stomach tightened.
She remembered the application.
Fourteen months earlier.
A recruiter had called her unexpectedly.
She had never applied directly to Gallagher Enterprises.
The recruiter said someone had seen her work at a small logistics firm and believed she would be a perfect fit.
The salary had been almost forty percent higher than what she had been earning.
At the time, she had considered it a miracle.
Her mother's nursing home had raised its monthly cost three weeks earlier.
She had needed money.
Gallagher Enterprises had appeared.
She looked at Declan.
"You said someone recommended me."
"Yes."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Victor laughed again.
"That's a lie."
Declan's jaw tightened.
Ronan stepped between Victor and the door.
"Enough."
But Victor had found the weakness in the room.
He knew it.
"You think the betrayal started three weeks ago?" he asked Declan. "You've been looking in the wrong direction."
Declan took one step closer.
"What direction should I be looking?"
Victor smiled.
"Ask her mother."
The room went silent.
Norah felt as though the floor had shifted beneath her.
"My mother?"
Victor's smile disappeared.
For the first time, something like fear entered his face.
He seemed to realize he had said too much.
Declan noticed too.
"Take him downstairs."
Ronan opened the door.
Two security officers entered.
Victor resisted.
"You're making a mistake."
Declan didn't respond.
Victor looked at Norah as the officers took his arms.
"You should ask why your mother recognized the Gallagher name before you ever worked here."
Norah froze.
"My mother has never met him."
Victor smiled again.
"That's what she told you?"
The security team removed him.
The door closed.
Norah remained motionless.
Declan waited until Victor disappeared down the corridor before turning toward her.
"What does he mean?"
"I don't know."
"Norah."
"I said I don't know."
Her voice rose.
Several security officers glanced over.
Norah didn't care.
"My mother has dementia."
Something changed in Declan's face.
He hadn't known.
"Early stage," Norah continued. "Some days she's completely lucid. Other days she forgets what year it is. She remembers old things better than new things."
"How long?"
"Three years."
Declan looked toward the empty conference room.
"What did she do before she retired?"
"Bookkeeping."
His attention returned to her.
"For whom?"
"Different companies."
"What companies?"
Norah shook her head.
"I don't know all of them. Why would I?"
Declan studied her.
The intensity of his attention made her uncomfortable.
"How old is your mother?"
"Seventy-one."
Declan did the calculation silently.
Norah saw it happen.
Then his expression changed.
"What?"
He looked at Ronan.
"Get me everything on Evelyn Hastings."
Norah stepped between them.
"No."
Both men stopped.
Declan's eyes narrowed.
"No?"
"You're not investigating my mother without telling me why."
"Victor knew her name."
"That doesn't mean she's involved."
"I didn't say she was."
"You were thinking it."
"No."
His voice softened slightly.
"I'm thinking she might know something."
"She's sick."
"I understand."
"No, you don't."
Declan stared at her.
Norah regretted the words almost immediately, but she continued.
"You don't understand what it's like when someone remembers you one morning and asks who you are that afternoon."
Declan said nothing.
"She gets confused. She gets frightened. If strangers start questioning her—"
"They won't."
Norah stopped.
Declan looked at Ronan.
"Nobody contacts Evelyn Hastings. Nobody approaches the facility. We investigate records only."
Ronan nodded.
Norah's shoulders lowered slightly.
Declan looked at her again.
"Better?"
"Marginally."
Something almost like approval touched his expression.
"You negotiate aggressively."
"I've had a difficult evening."
"So have I."
Norah glanced at the blood staining his shirt.
"Fair."
For one strange second, neither of them looked away.
Then Ronan's phone rang.
His expression changed before he answered.
"Doyle."
Silence.
"Repeat that."
Declan straightened.
Ronan looked at him.
"Your garage vehicle was accessed."
"When?"
"Thirty-six minutes ago."
"By whom?"
"We don't know."
Declan's eyes moved immediately to Norah.
Her stomach dropped.
"My car?"
Ronan shook his head.
"Gallagher's."
"Explosive?"
Declan asked the question with disturbing calmness.
"We're checking."
Norah stared at him.
This was not a boardroom dispute.
Not fraud.
Not merely stolen money.
Someone had attacked him tonight.
Someone had compromised the elevator.
Someone had accessed his vehicle.
Declan turned toward her.
"You're coming with me."
"Where?"
"A secure residence."
"I don't think—"
"Norah."
She recognized the tone.
The tone that meant he had stopped discussing and started deciding.
Unfortunately for him, fourteen months of obedience had ended somewhere between floor twenty-six and the emergency light.
"No."
Declan blinked.
Ronan looked away, possibly to hide a reaction.
Norah folded her arms.
"You don't get to tell me I'm involved in a conspiracy and then relocate me like furniture."
"I'm trying to keep you alive."
"Then explain the choices."
Declan stared at her.
"Fine."
He stepped closer.
"My penthouse has independent security, separate communications, a private medical room, and a floor that cannot be accessed without biometric authorization."
"You have a medical room?"
"Occupational hazard."
Despite everything, Norah nearly laughed.
Declan continued.
"Ronan will move your vehicle somewhere else. Your phone will be replaced because we can't guarantee it hasn't been compromised. Someone will remain outside your door."
"My door?"
"You'll have your own suite."
"I wasn't asking about sleeping arrangements."
His eyes shifted.
Something changed in the air.
Only slightly.
Then Declan said, "Good."
Norah felt heat touch her face.
Ronan suddenly became extremely interested in his phone.
Declan continued as if nothing had happened.
"You may leave whenever you want."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"But you think someone might kill me if I do."
"Yes."
"That's not exactly freedom."
"No."
At least he didn't lie.
Norah considered the situation.
Her apartment suddenly felt impossible.
Her mother's facility was thirty minutes away.
"If I go with you, we move my mother somewhere secure tomorrow."
Declan's answer was immediate.
"Agreed."
"You don't question her without me."
"Agreed."
"You tell me everything you learn about why I was hired."
He paused.
"Everything relevant."
"Everything."
Another pause.
"Agreed."
"And I keep working on the numbers."
This time his answer came quickly.
"No."
Norah stared.
"You said I'm good at patterns."
"That doesn't mean I'm putting you in front of a target."
"I'm already the target."
Declan's jaw tightened.
"Exactly."
"And if the numbers are why, then I need to understand them."
"Norah—"
"You promised I was safe with you."
He stopped.
She stepped closer.
"That promise doesn't mean anything if you keep me ignorant."
The words hit harder than she expected.
Declan's eyes darkened.
For several seconds, the entire executive floor seemed to disappear around them.
Then he said quietly, "You'll work from the secure residence."
Norah nodded.
"Good."
"You'll work with me."
"Fine."
"You don't access anything without telling me."
She raised an eyebrow.
"That's ambitious."
His mouth nearly moved.
"Norah."
"Fine."
Ronan cleared his throat.
"Car is ready."
Twenty minutes later, Norah left Gallagher Enterprises through a private underground corridor she had never known existed.
Declan walked beside her.
Two guards ahead.
Two behind.
His hand occasionally pressed against his ribs.
She noticed.
She didn't mention it.
Outside, Chicago had disappeared beneath rain.
A black SUV waited behind reinforced doors.
They climbed inside.
Norah sat beside the window.
Declan sat across from her.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Norah's temporary phone vibrated.
She frowned.
Only Ronan had the number.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown sender.
One image.
Her breathing stopped.
It was her mother.
Evelyn Hastings sat beside the nursing home window wearing her blue cardigan.
The photograph had been taken that afternoon.
Below it was a message.
STOP READING THE NUMBERS.
Norah went cold.
Declan saw her face.
"What?"
She handed him the phone.
He read the message.
Every trace of fatigue disappeared from his expression.
"Ronan."
The security chief turned from the front seat.
"Change of plan."
Declan handed him the phone.
"Lock down Evelyn Hastings' facility."
Norah looked at him.
"Declan—"
He reached across the space between them and took her hand.
Not gently because he thought she was fragile.
Firmly because she was shaking.
His eyes stayed on hers.
"We're getting your mother out."
Norah swallowed.
"And if they're already there?"
Declan's hand tightened.
"Then they made the mistake of showing me where to look."
Outside, Chicago blurred behind rain.
Inside the vehicle, Norah stared at the photograph of her mother.
Fourteen months ago, Gallagher Enterprises had saved her financially.
Tonight, she finally understood the possibility she had never considered.
Maybe the job had never been designed to save her.
May you like
Maybe it had been designed to place her exactly where someone needed her.
And whoever had put her inside Declan Gallagher's empire had been planning this for a very long time.
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