Chapter 2 - The Man Harper Trusted
The penthouse door opened three inches.
Dominic moved before Harper saw who was there.
He pulled her behind the marble wall separating the dining area from the entryway and pressed one finger to his lips.
Liam crouched beside the table.
Harper heard footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Then a familiar voice.
“Dominic?”
Ronan.
Dominic did not relax.
“Stay here,” he whispered.
Harper caught his sleeve.
“You told him to leave.”
“Yes.”
“Then why is he back?”
“That is what I intend to find out.”
Dominic stepped into view.
Ronan stopped.
“I forgot my phone.”
Dominic looked toward the side table.
A black phone rested there.
Ronan picked it up.
His gaze moved past Dominic.
Straight toward the marble wall where Harper stood hidden.
For half a second, Harper was certain he knew.
Then Ronan nodded.
“Everything good?”
“Perfect.”
“Need anything?”
“No.”
Ronan walked out.
The door closed.
Dominic waited.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Then he opened the door and checked the hall.
Empty.
Harper stepped out.
“That was normal?”
“No.”
“What happens now?”
“We find out whether Evan Caldwell is stupid enough to be involved or smart enough to be afraid.”
“You’re not going near Evan.”
Dominic turned.
Harper immediately realized how absurd the sentence sounded.
Still, she repeated it.
“You’re not going near him until I know what this is.”
“He has something that could get your brother killed.”
“He has something Liam gave him willingly.”
“Which does not improve his position.”
“It improves mine.”
Dominic folded his arms.
“How?”
“He trusts me.”
“You think so?”
“I’ve worked beside him for six years.”
“And tonight he somehow knows you’re inside my home.”
Harper had no answer.
Dominic came closer.
Not threateningly.
Just enough to lower his voice.
“Trust is not measured by how long someone smiles at you.”
Harper held his gaze.
“Neither is guilt measured by one text message.”
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Dominic nodded.
“Fair.”
The response surprised her.
She had expected argument.
Commands.
Arrogance.
Instead, he pulled a second phone from his pocket and dialed.
“Bring the car around.”
Harper stared.
“You just agreed with me.”
“I agreed that we don’t know whether Evan is guilty.”
“And now?”
“Now we ask.”
“I ask.”
“We ask.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Dominic—”
“You slapped me in front of ten men thirty minutes ago. I think we’re beyond formal introductions.”
Liam made a pained sound that might have been laughter.
Harper glared at him.
“Not helping.”
Dominic looked at Liam.
“You’re staying here.”
“No chance.”
“That wasn’t negotiable.”
“He’s my brother.”
“That is exactly why he stays.”
Harper studied Dominic.
“You really expect me to leave him in your penthouse?”
“Yes.”
“With your men?”
“No.”
Dominic pressed a hidden panel beside the bar.
A door opened.
Behind it was a smaller private room.
Computer monitors.
Security feeds.
A steel door on the far side.
“You have a panic room?”
“I live in Chicago.”
“That is not a normal Chicago feature.”
“It is in my Chicago.”
Liam lowered himself into a chair.
“I’ll stay.”
Harper stared at him.
“You sure?”
“I’m slowing you down.”
“You’re injured.”
“Same point.”
Dominic handed Liam a phone.
“One button calls me. One calls emergency services. Do not open the door for anyone except Harper or me.”
Liam looked at him.
“Even Ronan?”
Dominic paused.
“Especially Ronan.”
That answer followed Harper into the elevator.
They rode down forty-three floors in silence.
At the underground garage, a black sedan waited.
Dominic opened the passenger door.
Harper stopped.
“You always do that?”
“What?”
“Open doors for women you’ve just threatened with arranged marriage.”
His mouth almost curved.
“I did not threaten you.”
“You announced I was going to stand beside you.”
“I said you would.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It was meant to.”
Harper stared at him.
“Why?”
Dominic looked toward the driver.
“Go ahead. I’ll drive.”
The driver immediately moved to another vehicle.
Dominic waited until they were alone.
“Because at least one person in that room is betraying me.”
Harper understood.
“You wanted them to believe I mattered.”
“Yes.”
“So they’d react.”
“Yes.”
“And the future-wife part?”
Dominic opened the car door again.
“That got everyone’s attention.”
“You could’ve said business partner.”
“No one would believe that.”
“Why?”
“You dislike me.”
“I slapped you.”
“Exactly.”
Despite herself, Harper almost laughed.
She climbed inside.
Dominic drove.
The city passed in streaks of gold and white.
Harper watched him from the passenger seat.
“Did you know they were going to attack Liam?”
“No.”
“If you had?”
“They wouldn’t have.”
The certainty in his voice disturbed her more than boasting would have.
“What exactly do you do, Dominic?”
He kept his eyes on the road.
“Real estate. Shipping. Private security. Restaurants.”
“And the parts you don’t list on tax returns?”
His fingers tightened once on the steering wheel.
“My father built an organization before I was born.”
“That’s a polished answer.”
“It’s the accurate one.”
“And are people afraid of you?”
“Yes.”
“Should I be?”
He looked at her.
“No.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
“You know I have poor impulse control around your face.”
“That was established.”
She looked away before he saw the reluctant smile.
Evan’s office occupied the thirty-first floor of a tower overlooking the river.
The lobby was nearly empty.
Harper used her badge.
The elevator accepted it.
Dominic watched the access panel.
“You still have clearance after midnight?”
“I manage international projects.”
“Convenient.”
“Suspicious?”
“Everything is suspicious tonight.”
When the elevator opened, the architecture firm was dark except for one row of lights.
Evan’s office door stood open.
Harper walked ahead.
Dominic caught her wrist.
“Behind me.”
“No.”
“If he has a weapon—”
“If he sees you first, he may panic.”
Dominic released her.
“Five steps.”
“What?”
“You stay within five steps of me.”
“You’re very controlling.”
“I’ve been told.”
Harper entered.
“Evan?”
No answer.
His desk lamp was on.
Laptop open.
Coffee cooling beside it.
Harper walked closer.
A large cardboard presentation tube rested across the desk.
On top was an envelope.
HARPER.
She opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
I’M SORRY.
She felt Dominic behind her.
“Don’t touch anything else.”
“It’s my office.”
“It may be a crime scene.”
Her skin prickled.
“What do you mean?”
Dominic pointed.
The desk chair was overturned.
Not dramatically.
Almost carefully.
As if someone had bumped it while being moved.
Harper looked toward the hallway.
“Evan?”
Dominic checked the adjacent conference room.
Empty.
Harper looked inside the presentation tube.
Architectural drawings.
She pulled them out.
A brass key fell onto the desk.
Tag 47.
“There.”
Dominic picked it up with his handkerchief.
Harper exhaled.
“So we have the key.”
“We have a key.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Anyone can stamp forty-seven into brass.”
She looked at the drawings.
One sheet was different.
Not a building plan.
A floor map.
Union Station.
A red circle around a bank of lockers.
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“What?”
“This map is old.”
“How old?”
“Those lockers were removed six years ago.”
Harper stared.
“Then Locker 47 doesn’t exist?”
“Not publicly.”
He turned the sheet over.
Writing covered the back.
Numbers.
Dates.
Initials.
One name repeated three times.
R.G.
Harper noticed Dominic’s expression.
“You know those initials.”
“Yes.”
“Ronan Gallagher?”
“He’s my cousin.”
Harper’s stomach sank.
A sound came from the corridor.
Dominic shut off the lamp.
Darkness.
Harper barely had time to react before his arm moved protectively across her.
Footsteps approached.
A silhouette appeared through the glass wall.
Then another.
Dominic whispered, “Stay behind me.”
Harper’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She opened the message.
A photograph appeared.
Liam.
Sitting inside Dominic’s panic room.
Harper’s blood turned cold.
The photograph had been taken from inside the room.
A message followed.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE KEY ALONE.
Harper showed Dominic.
For the first time that night, genuine fear entered his eyes.
He called Liam.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Dominic turned toward the elevator.
Harper followed.
Then his phone rang.
Private number.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke only one sentence.
“Bring Harper Quinn to Locker 47 before midnight, or her brother learns what loyalty costs.”
The call ended.
Harper stared at Dominic.
He looked at the clock.
11:26 p.m.
May you like
Thirty-four minutes.
And somewhere inside his locked penthouse, someone had already reached Liam.
