Chapter 2 - The Guest Who Refused to Be Leverage
Time moved differently at the Hail Estate.
There were no clocks in Sadie’s room, at least none she could see from the bed, and the curtains were so heavy that morning arrived as a rumor rather than a fact. Someone had changed the dressing on her lip while she slept. Someone else had left a glass of water within reach of her uninjured hand. The room smelled faintly of cedar, antiseptic, and coffee coming from somewhere beyond the closed door.
Sadie woke angry.
Pain had sharpened overnight. Her ribs felt wired together with hot metal, her shoulder throbbed beneath the sling, and the right side of her face had become a deep purple map of what Tommy Sullivan had done to her.
But anger was useful.
Anger meant she was alive.
Dr. Evans arrived with oatmeal, medication, and the bedside manner of a woman who had long ago stopped pretending adults were good patients.
“You can glare at me after you eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re concussed, bruised, dehydrated, and stubborn. Only one of those things is helping.”
Sadie took the spoon.
Halfway through breakfast, she heard male voices beyond the door.
Roman’s voice was easy to recognize. The other belonged to Carter.
“We found her apartment,” Carter said. “Door was forced. Place was tossed.”
Sadie stopped chewing.
Roman said something too low to hear.
Then Carter replied, “No sign of the brother.”
Sadie pushed the tray aside.
“Open the door.”
Dr. Evans did not move.
“Open it.”
“You need rest.”
“My apartment was broken into.”
“That is not a medical emergency.”
“It is when everything I own fits inside it.”
Sadie swung her legs toward the edge of the bed.
Dr. Evans swore softly.
The door opened before Sadie could stand.
Roman entered first. Carter followed him carrying a paper grocery bag.
Sadie looked at the bag.
“What’s that?”
“Things from your apartment that weren’t broken,” Carter said.
The answer hit harder than she expected.
Sadie’s apartment had never been much. A second-floor walk-up above a laundromat, peeling paint, a radiator that clanged all winter, and one kitchen window that refused to close all the way. But it had been hers.
“Who did it?” she asked.
Roman’s expression did not change. “Sullivan’s men.”
“Looking for Ben.”
“Looking for something Ben had.”
Sadie frowned.
Roman looked toward Dr. Evans.
“Give us ten minutes.”
“No more,” the doctor said.
She left, pulling Carter with her.
Sadie watched Roman close the door.
“What did Ben take?”
Roman walked to the window instead of answering.
Rain still streaked the glass.
“Three nights ago, your brother was seen leaving a private card room in West Oakhaven. Two hours later, one of Sullivan’s accountants discovered a ledger was missing.”
Sadie laughed once and immediately regretted it as pain stabbed her side.
“You think Ben stole a bookkeeping file?”
“I know he did.”
“Ben can barely keep track of his own phone charger.”
“This ledger is not about gambling debt. It contains payment schedules, shell companies, names, and transfer codes.”
“Why would Ben take it?”
Roman turned.
“That is the question.”
Sadie stared at him.
“And you’re keeping me here because you think I know where it is.”
“I’m keeping you here because Sullivan nearly killed you.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
For the first time, Roman looked mildly impressed.
“You are leverage,” he said.
There it was.
Clean. Cold. Honest.
Sadie’s throat tightened.
“I knew it.”
“I did not arrange what happened to you.”
“But you’re happy to use it.”
“I am happy to use anything that keeps Sullivan from finding the ledger before I do.”
She reached for the water and missed because her fingers were shaking.
Roman moved forward.
Sadie snapped, “Don’t.”
He stopped.
She hated that he listened. It made hating him less simple.
“I’m not bait,” she said.
“No.”
“You just called me leverage.”
“There is a difference.”
“Not from where I’m lying.”
Roman’s jaw flexed.
Sadie leaned back into the pillows, breathing through the ache.
“If you want my help, I have conditions.”
One of his eyebrows lifted.
“You are in my house, receiving private medical care, while men outside would kill you for information you may not possess.”
“And you still need something from me.”
Silence.
Sadie almost smiled.
“First, nobody goes near the diner. Maria works the late shift on Thursdays. She’s sixty-three, has bad knees, and she thinks pepper spray makes her immortal. If Tommy’s people think I told her anything, she’ll try to fight them.”
Roman said nothing.
“Second, you find out whether my landlord is alive and whether the family downstairs is safe.”
“They are.”
Sadie blinked.
“You checked?”
“Last night.”
That threw her.
Roman continued, “Your landlord spent the night with his daughter. The downstairs family is unharmed and currently staying with relatives.”
“Why?”
“Because men who tear apart an apartment sometimes return.”
Sadie looked away.
“Third,” she said, “if Ben calls, I speak to him first.”
“No.”
Her eyes returned to him.
“No?”
“If your brother contacts us, I determine whether the call is secure.”
“Then I speak to him.”
“If it is safe.”
“Roman.”
It was the first time she had used his name.
Something in the room changed.
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded once.
“If it is safe.”
Sadie exhaled.
“Fourth, you don’t lie to me.”
His mouth almost curved.
“That is an ambitious request.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“You want me to trust you enough to help. Then tell me what that ledger does to you.”
Roman’s expression cooled.
“That is not relevant.”
“Then we’re done.”
Sadie reached for the tray.
Roman stayed by the window for several seconds.
Finally he said, “Sullivan works for Marcus Vane.”
Sadie knew the name.
Everybody in Oakhaven did.
Marcus Vane owned nightclubs, trucking companies, half a dozen warehouses, and enough politicians to make newspaper stories disappear.
Roman continued.
“Vane has spent two years trying to push into the Narrows. The ledger would prove he has been paying city inspectors, union officials, and at least one judge.”
“That sounds like his problem.”
“It becomes mine if he uses those people to seize businesses under my protection.”
Sadie looked at him.
“Protection.”
“Yes.”
“That’s a pretty word.”
“It is an accurate one.”
“Is that what Tommy calls beating women in alleys?”
Roman’s face went still.
“No.”
For a second, the calmness disappeared.
Not loudly.
Not theatrically.
But Sadie saw it—the violent edge she had noticed the night before.
Roman returned it behind a locked door in his expression.
“Tommy Sullivan acted outside the rules Vane claims to enforce.”
Sadie gave him a bitter smile.
“You people have rules.”
“Everyone has rules.”
“Normal people call them laws.”
Roman looked toward the door.
“Normal people also left you in an alley.”
That landed.
Sadie hated him for landing it.
Before she could answer, Carter knocked once and entered.
“Sir.”
Roman turned.
Carter held a tablet.
“We found footage.”
“From where?”
“The bus terminal.”
Sadie sat straighter despite Dr. Evans’s warnings.
Carter placed the tablet on the bed.
The video was grainy and gray.
A man in a hooded jacket crossed a terminal lobby three nights earlier.
Ben.
Sadie knew his walk immediately—the slight hitch from a high-school football injury, the nervous habit of rubbing his thumb against his palm.
“He went to Chicago,” she whispered.
Carter swiped to another clip.
“This was recorded last night.”
The timestamp showed 2:17 a.m.
A different security camera.
A parking structure.
Ben stepped out of a stairwell, looked directly toward the lens, and lifted one hand.
Then he disappeared behind a concrete pillar.
Sadie’s pulse jumped.
“Where is that?”
Roman did not answer immediately.
Carter did.
“Three blocks from this estate.”
Sadie looked at Roman.
Her fear came back all at once.
Ben had not escaped.
May you like
He had come back.
And somehow, impossibly, he had come looking for the most dangerous man in Oakhaven.
