Chapter 2 - THE SHOTS THROUGH THE WINDOW
At 12:43 that night, someone sent Mara a photograph of her apartment door.
At 12:51, another photograph arrived.
Her building.
At 1:06, the third message came.
Cute baby.
Her hands began shaking.
She was still staring at the phone when someone knocked.
Three sharp taps.
Mara froze.
Another knock.
“Mara.”
Marcus.
She opened the door only after checking the peephole twice.
He stood in the hallway alone.
Rain darkened his coat.
“What are you doing here?”
“Someone has been sitting in a sedan across from your building for forty minutes.”
“You followed me?”
“No.”
“Then how did you find my address?”
“The same way they did.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“No.”
At least he didn’t pretend otherwise.
Mara let him inside.
Her apartment suddenly looked painfully small.
Secondhand couch.
Kitchen table purchased online for forty dollars.
A stack of prenatal bills near the microwave.
A half-built crib against the wall.
Marcus’s eyes stopped on the tiny yellow socks lying beside a sewing kit.
Mara grabbed the medical bills.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at this place like it’s something you need to fix.”
His expression changed.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were calculating.”
He almost argued.
Then stopped.
“You’re right.”
Mara stared at him.
Tristan had never admitted that sentence once in three years.
Marcus walked toward the window.
“Come somewhere safer tonight.”
“Your house?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“No.”
He turned.
She stood straighter.
“I spent years with a man who used protection as an excuse to control everything I did. He checked my bank account. He decided who I could have dinner with. He hated my job because men worked there. I am not trading one cage for another just because the second cage has marble floors.”
Marcus listened without interrupting.
“Did Tristan hurt you?”
“Not with his fists.”
Marcus looked toward the floor.
Somehow that frightened her more than rage.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Mara said, “don’t.”
His gaze returned to hers.
“I was thinking I understand now why you looked at me like that when I offered protection.”
She swallowed.
Marcus took a card from his wallet.
“My security chief. Owen Shaw.”
He put it on the table.
“You choose where you stay. You decide who enters. You can leave whenever you want. If you tell Owen to keep me out, he will keep me out.”
Mara almost smiled.
“Would he?”
Marcus considered it.
“He’ll hate every second of it.”
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
His expression softened.
Then the kitchen window exploded.
Marcus moved before Mara understood the sound.
He hit her from the side, wrapping both arms around her and taking her to the floor behind the couch.
Glass rained across the kitchen.
A second impact buried itself in the wall.
Mara screamed.
Marcus covered her body with his.
“Stay down.”
He pulled out his phone.
“Owen. Now.”
Tires shrieked outside.
Mara pressed both hands over her stomach.
Her daughter kicked.
Again.
Again.
Alive.
She began crying.
Marcus looked at her.
“The baby?”
“She moved.”
His eyes closed for one second.
Footsteps thundered through the hallway.
Two men entered.
“Street’s clear,” one said. “Car took off east.”
Marcus looked at the hole in the wall.
Then at Mara.
May you like
“This apartment is no longer an option.”
This time, she did not argue.
