Chapter 2 - BEHIND THE BLACK GATES
Z
Seven black SUVs waited on the private tarmac.
I counted them because counting was easier than admitting I had voluntarily followed Ethan Callahan off an airplane.
Chicago wind tore through my thin sweater.
Sophie woke immediately and made an offended little noise against my chest.
Ethan took off his coat.
“No.”
He stopped.
I shook my head.
“I can carry my own baby, and I can survive cold weather.”
“I was giving you the coat.”
“Oh.”
His mouth twitched.
I hated that.
I hated even more that I took the coat.
It smelled faintly of cedar and expensive cologne.
A man opened the rear door of an armored SUV.
“I need to go to my sister,” I said.
“No.”
I turned toward Ethan.
“You’re getting entirely too comfortable with that word.”
“So are you.”
“My sister may be in danger.”
“Which is why my people are finding her.”
“Your people?”
“The people who are significantly better at locating someone inside Marconi territory than a sleep-deprived waitress carrying a six-month-old.”
That shut me up.
Mostly because he was right.
I climbed into the SUV.
Ethan sat beside me.
There was enough room between us for another person, yet I remained painfully aware of him.
My phone vibrated continuously.
Texts from coworkers.
A message from my landlord reminding me rent was due.
Then another call from Elena.
I grabbed it.
Disconnected.
“Can your people trace her phone?”
Ethan held out his hand.
I hesitated.
Then gave him my phone.
He read the number and passed it to Declan.
“Do it.”
Declan nodded from the front seat.
Nobody asked what Ethan meant.
Apparently when you were the King of Chicago, verbs were complete sentences.
The city slid past outside.
Downtown towers.
Dark streets.
A river reflecting white lights.
Then we turned north.
“Where are we going?”
“My house.”
I laughed.
Ethan didn’t.
“You think I’m taking my daughter to a Mafia boss’s house?”
“I think you’re already sitting in his car.”
“That is temporary.”
“So is breathing if Adrian Marconi thinks you have something he wants.”
I looked down at Sophie.
Her tiny fingers curled around mine.
Fear transformed.
Until then, I had been frightened for Elena.
Now fear became something uglier.
Maternal.
“What key?”
Ethan’s voice was quiet.
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Your sister thinks you have it.”
“She’s wrong.”
“Think.”
I did.
My father, Javier Morales, had been an electrician.
At least that was what I had always believed.
He worked nights.
He came home smelling like machine oil and cigarettes even though Mom hated smoking.
Sometimes strangers visited our apartment.
Men who talked quietly in the kitchen while Elena and I watched television.
I had been nineteen when police told us he died in an industrial fire.
Three weeks later, Mom packed everything we owned and took me to Los Angeles.
Before we left, she gave me Dad’s silver Saint Christopher medal.
I still had it.
Suddenly my hand moved toward my purse.
Ethan noticed.
“Rachel?”
“Nothing.”
His eyes sharpened.
The SUV passed through enormous iron gates.
Beyond them stood a gray stone mansion surrounded by winter trees.
Not flashy.
Not ridiculous.
Just enormous and guarded by men carrying weapons.
I clutched Sophie tighter.
“This is temporary.”
Ethan opened his door.
“I heard you the first time.”
Inside, the house surprised me.
No gold statues.
No animal heads.
No velvet curtains.
Dark wood. Old paintings. Warm lamps.
A woman in her sixties hurried into the foyer.
“Ethan Callahan, what have you done now?”
She stopped when she saw me.
Then Sophie.
Her expression transformed.
“Oh.”
Ethan sighed.
“Rachel, this is Margaret.”
“His aunt,” she said firmly. “And the closest thing this house has to civilization.”
For the first time that night, I smiled.
Margaret took one look at my face and pointed toward the stairs.
“You need sleep.”
“My sister—”
“Will still need rescuing after you’ve eaten something.”
Ethan removed his watch.
“Margaret.”
“I’m not discussing it.”
To my shock, Ethan Callahan obeyed.
Thirty minutes later, I sat at a kitchen island eating chicken soup while Sophie slept inside a portable crib someone had somehow produced.
Ethan entered carrying my Saint Christopher medal.
I immediately stood.
“Why do you have that?”
“You dropped it.”
“Give it back.”
He placed it on the counter.
For several seconds, he stared at it.
Then he said, “I knew your father.”
The spoon slipped from my fingers.
“What?”
“Javier Morales worked for my father.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He was an electrician.”
“He was that too.”
“What did he do for your family?”
Ethan leaned against the counter.
“He kept records.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind?”
“The kind men get killed for possessing.”
The room became very quiet.
“Dad hated criminals.”
A shadow moved through Ethan’s eyes.
“Your father hated men who hurt innocent people. That isn’t the same thing.”
“Don’t romanticize this.”
“I’m not.”
“Did you kill him?”
Ethan went completely still.
The question sat between us.
Finally he answered.
“No.”
“Did your family?”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No. I expect you to decide for yourself after you know everything.”
I hated how calm he was.
“Then tell me everything.”
Before he could answer, Declan entered.
“We found the sister.”
I stood so quickly the stool scraped the floor.
“Where?”
“Marconi owns a hotel near the river. She’s inside the penthouse.”
“Is she safe?”
Declan glanced at Ethan.
I saw it.
That tiny hesitation.
My heart pounded.
“What?”
Ethan answered.
“She’s alive.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
I grabbed my coat.
Ethan stepped into my path.
“You’re staying here.”
“She’s my sister.”
“And you have Sophie.”
“I can leave Sophie with Margaret.”
“No.”
“Stop telling me no!”
Sophie stirred.
I lowered my voice instantly.
Ethan did too.
“Rachel, Adrian wants something your father left behind. Right now, he believes you have it. Walking into his hotel is exactly what he wants.”
“Then I’m useful.”
“You’re a target.”
“So use me.”
His expression changed.
“No.”
“You use everyone else.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know men jump when you speak. I know people on airplanes apologize to you for breathing too loudly. And I know you can get inside that hotel.”
His jaw tightened.
“If Elena is there because of me, I’m going.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You can either bring me with your men, where you can control the situation, or I can wait until you leave and call a cab.”
For three seconds, nobody spoke.
Margaret appeared in the doorway holding a bottle for Sophie.
She looked from Ethan to me.
Then smiled faintly.
“Oh, I like her.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“This isn’t funny.”
“No,” Margaret said. “But it is familiar.”
Ethan looked at me again.
“Bulletproof vest.”
“What?”
“You’re wearing one.”
My heart jumped.
“That means yes?”
“That means I’m already questioning every decision that led me onto that flight.”
Twenty-five minutes later, I was inside another SUV wearing body armor beneath Ethan’s coat.
Sophie remained behind with Margaret and six armed guards.
The Marconi hotel rose ahead of us.
Every window glowed gold.
The wedding was scheduled for noon.
It was now 4:17 in the morning.
Ethan checked his gun.
My mouth went dry.
“Are you expecting trouble?”
“I always expect trouble.”
Then Declan’s phone rang.
He listened.
His face hardened.
“What?” Ethan asked.
Declan turned toward us.
“They moved Elena.”
“Where?”
“We don’t know.”
My chest tightened.
Then his gaze landed on me.
“But they left something in the room.”
“What?”
“A message.”
He turned the phone around.
On the screen was a photograph of my sister’s empty hotel suite.
May you like
Someone had written four words across the mirror in red lipstick.
BRING US JAVIER’S KEY.
