Chapter 1 - THE SOUND OF A BONE BREAKINGA fractured bone sounds like dry branches snapping beneath winter boots.
Most people scream.
Norah Hayes simply wrapped her wrist in a stolen kitchen towel and went to work.
At five that morning, Raymond Miller had been waiting behind her apartment building.
Her ex-boyfriend smelled of cheap beer, cigarettes and desperation.
He wanted money.
Ray always wanted money.
“The horses screwed me,” he said.
“That isn’t my problem anymore.”
Norah tried to pass.
Ray grabbed her left arm.
“Don’t walk away from me.”
She yanked back.
He twisted.
The crack echoed between the brick walls.
Ray froze.
Then ran.
Six hours later, Norah stood inside the industrial kitchen of the Rossi estate with her wrist hidden beneath a starched uniform sleeve.
She had wrapped it tightly in athletic tape.
Too tightly.
Her fingers were beginning to change color.
But rent was due.
Pain did not excuse poverty.
“NORAH.”
Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, snapped her fingers.
“Mr. Rossi wants coffee and the morning papers.”
Norah prepared the tray with one hand.
Unfortunately, the silver tray required two.
She braced her broken wrist beneath the edge.
White-hot pain shot to her shoulder.
She swallowed the sound.
Then walked toward the dining room.
Gabriel Rossi sat alone at the head of a table built for twenty.
Thirty-eight.
Dark hair.
Rolled sleeves.
Old scars crossing his forearms.
He was chairman of legitimate companies worth hundreds of millions.
He was also the man Chicago newspapers never described accurately because accuracy could become dangerous.
Norah approached.
Lowered the tray.
Her wrist failed.
Coffee spilled across the mahogany.
The porcelain cup struck the table.
Norah froze.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Rossi.”
She grabbed a napkin.
“I’ll clean it. I’m sorry.”
Gabriel caught her right wrist.
“Leave it.”
Norah stopped.
His gaze wasn’t on the coffee.
It was on her left arm hanging uselessly against her ribs.
“What happened to your wrist?”
“Nothing.”
Gabriel stared.
Norah looked down.
“Just a cramp.”
The grandfather clock ticked.
Gabriel released her.
“Go to the kitchen.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Sir, please. I can work.”
“Go.”
Norah hurried out, convinced she had just lost her job.
Behind her, Gabriel picked up the silver tray with one hand.
Tested its weight.
Then reached for his phone.
“Vincent.”
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A pause.
“I need you to find out why one of my employees is walking around my house with a broken arm.”
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