Chapter 2 - THE PRICE OF SURVIVAL|
Dominic Reeve had survived ambushes, betrayals, and two attempts to burn his waterfront empire to the ground. He had learned that panic was contagious and that the first person to lose control usually made the mistake that killed everyone else.
So he did not panic.
He pushed Lena beneath the table, covered her with his body, and waited until his security chief shouted that the corridor was clear.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you injured?”
“No.”
“Then stay behind me.”
Lena almost laughed. Eight years of planning, seven months of careful infiltration, and now the most dangerous man in New York was ordering her around like an employee who had misplaced a teaspoon.
“I’ve spent eight years surviving without your permission,” she said.
Dominic looked at her.
“Then consider this a professional courtesy.”
He led her through a service corridor while Aldwell directed the remaining guards. The injured man was carried toward a private medical suite. Nobody mentioned the blood spreading across the carpet.
At the rear entrance, a black SUV waited beneath the awning.
Dominic opened the door himself.
“Get in.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere Solin can’t reach easily.”
“That sounds like a promise you cannot guarantee.”
“It’s a promise I intend to test.”
She climbed inside.
Vivienne appeared in the doorway before Dominic could follow. Her immaculate dress was torn at one shoulder, and her diamonds flashed beneath the emergency lights.
“Dominic, please. You have to listen to me.”
He turned.
“Start with why someone just tried to kill us.”
“I don’t know who fired.”
“You know Marcus Solin has been receiving money from your accounts.”
“I never authorized those transfers.”
Lena watched Vivienne carefully.
The denial was quick. Too quick. But fear was harder to read than guilt, and Vivienne had plenty of reasons to be afraid.
Dominic said nothing.
Vivienne stepped closer.
“You cannot trust her. She was a child when her father died. She has no idea what David Voss was doing.”
“Then explain it,” Lena said.
Vivienne’s eyes sharpened.
“Your father was not the innocent man you remember.”
For the first time that evening, Lena felt the old certainty inside her crack.
Dominic noticed.
“Enough,” he said. “You’ll answer questions somewhere secure.”
“I’m your wife!”
“And I’m the man whose organization has lost men, money, and territory for two years because somebody has been feeding our enemies information.”
His voice never rose.
“That ends tonight.”
He entered the SUV and shut the door.
The vehicle moved into the rain, followed by two unmarked cars. Lena sat across from him, clutching the empty space where the photograph had been.
“What did the note mean by ‘the girl’?” she asked.
Dominic’s gaze settled on the dark streets outside.
“I don’t know.”
“Who was the boy in the photograph?”
He looked at her.
“My younger brother, Adrian.”
Lena froze.
Adrian Reeve had died at seventeen, according to the newspaper articles she had studied while investigating the family. A boating accident. A body recovered. Another tragedy that had supposedly closed an inconvenient chapter of the Reeve family history.
“And the girl?”
Dominic shook his head.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
Lena leaned forward.
“Look at the photograph again in your mind. The girl had a book. What kind?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Did she have a ribbon in her hair?”
He stared at her.
“Yes.”
Lena closed her eyes.
A blue ribbon. A wooden dock. A boy who had given her a book and promised that nobody would ever hurt her if she stayed close to him.
She had not remembered the boy’s name until tonight.
But she remembered the promise.
“Dominic,” she whispered, “I think I know that girl.”
His phone rang.
The screen displayed a blocked number.
He answered on speaker.
A man’s voice emerged, calm and almost amused.
“Mr. Reeve. You have something that belongs to me.”
Dominic’s expression turned cold.
“Then you should have taken better care of it.”
The caller laughed softly.
“You still believe this is about your business. That’s why you keep losing.”
A pause followed.
Then the man spoke Lena’s name.
Not Lena Carr.
Not Lena Voss.
Her full name, spoken with the familiarity of someone who had known her before she learned to hide.
“Welcome back, little bookkeeper.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then Dominic looked at her.
“Who was that?”
Lena stared at the phone.
“I don’t know.”
But the lie tasted like blood.
May you like
Because she recognized the voice.
And the last time she had heard it, her father was still alive.
