Chapter 1 - Forty Thousand Dollars
“Take your hand off me!” Morgana shouted as her father tightened his grip.
Roman Costa lowered his coffee cup beside a folded debt contract.
A second number had been written beneath the $40,000 balance.
$20,000 — VULOV.
Roman looked at Jason.
This was no longer about a gambling debt.
The old diner went silent.
Not completely silent. The refrigerator still hummed behind the counter. A spoon struck porcelain somewhere near the window. The ancient ceiling fan clicked every third rotation.
But every human voice disappeared.
Morgana felt Jason's fingers around her upper arm.
She could smell cigarettes on his jacket.
She could see Roman Costa across from them.
Roman remained seated in the red vinyl booth, one leg crossed over the other. His white shirt was open at the collar, exposing the upper edge of the dark tattoos covering his chest and neck. A gold watch rested against his wrist.
Two enormous men stood behind him.
Neither moved.
They didn't need to.
Jason swallowed.
“It's not what it looks like.”
Roman's eyes lifted.
“Then explain it.”
Jason attempted a smile.
Morgana had seen that smile before.
It was the smile he used when rent was late.
The smile he gave bartenders after discovering his wallet was empty.
The smile that always meant someone else was about to pay for one of his mistakes.
“You know how things get,” Jason said. “I borrowed a little here, a little there.”
Roman glanced at the paper.
“Forty thousand from me isn't a little.”
“I can make it right.”
“With your daughter?”
Jason's grip loosened.
Morgana pulled her arm free and stepped away.
Her brown leather bag bumped against her knee.
She had packed it that afternoon because Jason had called her at work and told her to come home immediately.
Instead, she'd found him waiting outside the diner.
With Roman Costa.
Jason had claimed they needed to talk.
Now she understood why.
“She's responsible,” Jason said quickly. “She works. She cooks. She keeps everything clean. She doesn't cause trouble.”
Morgana stared at him.
“Stop.”
Jason ignored her.
“She'll do whatever you need.”
Roman's expression changed.
Barely.
But Morgana saw it.
His jaw tightened.
“Jason.”
“She can repay you.”
“Jason.”
“I swear, she's worth—”
“Shut up.”
Roman never raised his voice.
Jason stopped instantly.
Roman set his coffee cup down.
Then he stood.
Morgana had known Roman Costa was large.
She hadn't understood how large until he rose from the booth.
He was taller than Jason by nearly a head, broad through the shoulders, his white shirt fitted across a body built more like a fighter than a businessman.
The tattoos made him look dangerous.
His stillness made him worse.
Roman looked at Morgana.
Not at her legs.
Not at her chest.
At her face.
Then his gaze dropped to her wrist.
Jason had grabbed her there three nights earlier during an argument about money.
The bruise had faded from purple to yellow.
Morgana instinctively pulled down her sleeve.
Roman noticed.
“Who did that?”
Nobody answered.
Roman looked at Jason.
Jason's face went pale.
“She bruises easy.”
Morgana almost laughed.
Instead, she whispered, “He did.”
Roman remained motionless.
Jason turned toward her.
“Morgana.”
“You did.”
“I was drunk.”
“You're always drunk.”
“Don't do this.”
She looked at him.
“Don't do what? Tell the truth while you're selling me?”
Jason's face twisted.
“I am trying to stay alive.”
Morgana felt something inside her finally break.
Not loudly.
There was no dramatic explosion.
Just a quiet severing.
For years, she had made excuses for him.
After her mother died, Jason had collapsed.
That was what Morgana told herself.
The gambling was grief.
The alcohol was grief.
The missing money was grief.
The holes punched into walls were grief.
The nights Morgana slept with a chair beneath her bedroom doorknob because strangers came looking for Jason were grief.
Everything had been grief.
Until now.
Now she understood.
Some people suffered.
Others used suffering as permission.
Jason was the second kind.
Roman picked up the contract.
“Your debt to me is forty thousand.”
Jason nodded quickly.
“Yes.”
“And you owe Viktor and Lev Vulov another twenty.”
Jason's face changed.
Morgana noticed.
Roman noticed too.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
Roman handed the paper to the man standing behind him.
“Hayes.”
The bodyguard unfolded it.
“Twenty thousand principal,” Hayes said. “Interest unknown. Collection scheduled tomorrow.”
Morgana's stomach tightened.
She knew the name Vulov.
Every waitress at the interstate diner did.
Truckers talked.
Men talked when they thought women weren't listening.
The Vulov brothers ran clubs near the port.
Girls disappeared through those clubs.
Some came back.
Some didn't.
Roman looked at Morgana.
“You know who they are.”
It wasn't a question.
She nodded.
Jason stepped forward.
“That has nothing to do with this.”
Roman turned.
“You promised them the same collateral.”
Morgana stopped breathing.
Jason said nothing.
Roman's voice became colder.
“Didn't you?”
“Roman—”
“Answer.”
Jason's shoulders dropped.
“I was desperate.”
Morgana stared at her father.
“No.”
“Morgana, listen.”
“No.”
“They weren't going to hurt you.”
Even Hayes reacted to that.
His expression didn't change much, but his eyes shifted toward Jason with open disgust.
Morgana backed away.
“You promised me to them?”
Jason moved toward her.
She raised one hand.
“Don't touch me.”
“Morgana—”
“Don't.”
Roman stepped between them.
The movement was so smooth Morgana barely saw it happen.
One second Jason was approaching.
The next Roman occupied the space.
“Your daughter told you not to touch her.”
Jason stopped.
Roman looked over his shoulder.
“Morgana.”
She met his eyes.
“Do you have somewhere safe to go?”
She almost said yes.
Pride wanted yes.
Reality said otherwise.
Her best friend rented a room with two roommates.
Her aunt lived three states away and hadn't answered a phone call in six years.
Her bank account contained $183.
Jason knew where she worked.
So did the Vulovs, apparently.
“No.”
Roman nodded once.
“Then you're coming with me.”
Fear returned immediately.
Morgana tightened her grip on her bag.
“Why?”
“Because if you leave through that door alone, the Vulovs will find you before midnight.”
“And I'm supposed to trust you?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
Roman continued.
“You shouldn't trust anyone tonight.”
Jason stepped around him.
“So we have a deal?”
Roman slowly turned.
Jason smiled nervously.
“My forty is cleared, right?”
Morgana looked at her father.
That was what mattered to him.
Not whether she was safe.
Not what Roman intended.
His ledger.
His debt.
Roman walked toward Jason.
Jason's smile disappeared.
“The debt is mine now,” Roman said.
Jason blinked.
“What?”
“Yours. The Vulovs'. Everything.”
Roman took out his phone.
“Hayes.”
Hayes already had his own phone ready.
“Purchase Jason Hale's outstanding note from the Vulovs.”
Jason stared.
“Why?”
Roman ignored him.
Hayes made the call.
Morgana couldn't understand what was happening.
Roman had come for $40,000.
Now he was voluntarily adding another $20,000.
Roman looked at her.
“You said you work here?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Fourteen fifty plus tips.”
“Hours?”
“Fifty. Sometimes sixty.”
“You support him?”
Morgana glanced at Jason.
“Yes.”
Roman's expression hardened again.
“How long?”
“Since I was sixteen.”
Jason protested.
“She lived under my roof.”
Morgana turned on him.
“I paid for that roof.”
Roman's phone vibrated.
Hayes looked up from his own.
“Vulov accepted.”
Roman answered his call.
“Costa.”
Morgana heard a man's voice but couldn't distinguish the words.
Roman listened.
Then said, “She is under my protection.”
More words.
Roman's expression became lethal.
“No. You don't approach her. You don't contact her. You don't drive past wherever she is. Your business with Jason Hale is finished.”
He disconnected.
Jason exhaled.
Roman looked at him.
“You owe me sixty thousand now.”
Jason's mouth fell open.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“But Morgana—”
“Is not payment.”
Jason pointed at her.
“You took her!”
Roman moved so quickly Jason stumbled backward.
Roman didn't strike him.
He didn't need to.
He simply came close enough that Jason understood how easily he could.
“I removed her from a situation you created.”
Roman's voice dropped.
“You offered your daughter to traffickers.”
Jason shook his head.
“I didn't know.”
“You knew exactly what they were.”
Roman stepped closer.
“You just hoped you'd be somewhere else by the time she understood.”
Jason's mouth worked soundlessly.
Morgana felt tears burning behind her eyes.
She refused to let them fall.
Roman turned toward her.
“Get your things.”
“This is everything.”
He looked at the bag.
“One bag?”
“Yes.”
Roman glanced at Hayes.
Something silent passed between them.
Hayes headed for the door.
Morgana remained still.
“What happens to me?”
Roman considered the question.
“You work.”
“For you?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“My house needs someone trustworthy. Cooking. Cleaning. Household management.”
She stared at him.
“You're making me your maid?”
“Employee.”
“Until sixty thousand is paid?”
Roman shook his head.
“Forty.”
“What about the other twenty?”
“Jason owes that.”
Jason immediately objected.
Roman looked at him.
Jason became quiet.
Morgana swallowed.
“You expect me to repay forty thousand.”
“At wages.”
“What wages?”
“Hayes will work out the legal employment agreement.”
Morgana almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
“Legal?”
“Yes.”
“You're a mafia boss.”
Roman's eyes narrowed slightly.
“Allegedly.”
For one impossible second, Morgana nearly smiled.
Then she remembered where she was.
Roman took his coat from the booth.
“You'll have a private room. It locks from inside. Nobody enters without permission.”
Morgana studied him.
“Why?”
Roman paused.
“Why what?”
“Why are you doing this?”
His expression became unreadable.
“Because your father was going to get you killed.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is tonight.”
He walked toward the door.
Morgana looked back at Jason.
Her father stood beside the booth, suddenly looking old.
Small.
Pathetic.
“Morgana.”
She stopped.
“I'm sorry.”
She waited.
Some stupid part of her still wanted him to say the right thing.
To ask forgiveness.
To promise he would change.
Instead he whispered, “Can you talk to Costa about the sixty?”
Morgana closed her eyes.
Then opened them.
“No.”
She followed Roman outside.
The SUV waited at the curb.
Hayes opened the rear door.
Morgana climbed inside.
Roman sat beside her, leaving nearly two feet between them.
The doors locked automatically.
She stared through the tinted window as the diner disappeared behind them.
Ten minutes passed.
Then Roman's phone rang.
He answered.
Hayes listened from the front.
Roman said nothing for several seconds.
Then his eyes moved toward Morgana.
“What?” she asked.
Roman ended the call.
“Your father left the diner.”
“So?”
“He didn't go home.”
Morgana felt cold.
“Where did he go?”
Roman's expression hardened.
“To the Vulovs.”
Her pulse jumped.
“But you bought their debt.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would he go there?”
Roman didn't answer immediately.
His phone vibrated again.
This time a photograph appeared on the screen.
Roman stared at it.
Then handed the phone to Morgana.
The photograph showed Jason entering a warehouse near the river.
A second man stood inside the doorway.
Morgana recognized him.
Her hand began to shake.
Roman watched her.
“You know him.”
She could barely speak.
“Yes.”
The man in the photograph had attended her mother's funeral twelve years earlier.
Morgana zoomed in.
There was something in his hand.
A photograph.
Her photograph.
May you like
And written across the bottom were three words:
DELIVERY — MIDNIGHT — ALIVE.
