Chapter 1 - The Lie That Saved My Life
A gun pressed beneath my hairline as I whispered:
“Please don’t shoot.”
Gabriel Costa stepped from the black sedan and noticed Marco Bell’s glowing phone.
Three words remained visible on the screen:
“Use the pharmacist.”
Gabriel suddenly realized this wasn’t about my brother’s debt.
My name is Quinn Hayes.
Until that night, the most dangerous thing I regularly handled was medication that required two signatures and a locked refrigerator.
I was thirty-two years old.
I worked as a pharmacist at St. Catherine’s Medical Center in Boston.
I paid my rent on time.
I alphabetized spices.
I called my mother every Sunday even though she had been dead for five years, because I still hadn’t deleted her number and sometimes seeing MOM on my favorites list hurt less than admitting there was nobody left to answer.
My younger brother, Liam, was the exception to every orderly part of my life.
And Liam owed forty thousand dollars to men who did not send collection notices.
Marco Bell grabbed me after my shift.
His partner kicked my phone away.
Then Marco forced me down.
“Knees.”
“I’m already on them.”
“Then stop moving.”
“I’m trying.”
The gun pushed harder.
My lip was bleeding.
Rainwater ran down my neck.
I could see my employee badge hanging backward against my scrub jacket.
QUINN HAYES, PHARMD.
Marco had read it twice.
He wanted me to understand that he knew exactly who I was.
“My brother doesn’t have forty thousand dollars,” I said.
“That sounds unfortunate.”
“He borrowed it. I didn’t.”
“Family makes debts complicated.”
“No. Criminals make debts complicated.”
Marco gave a humorless laugh.
Then headlights appeared.
A black sedan entered the alley.
Marco changed instantly.
That scared me.
The man who had spent ten minutes enjoying my fear suddenly looked afraid himself.
The rear door opened.
Gabriel Costa stepped out.
I knew the name.
Everyone in Boston did.
The Costa family owned shipping terminals, construction companies, warehouses, apartment buildings, and enough waterfront property to make respectable men become very polite.
Gabriel was supposed to be thirty-six.
He looked exactly that.
Dark hair.
Broad shoulders.
Burgundy jacket beneath a charcoal overcoat.
Black shirt.
Tattoos rising above his collar.
He didn’t look angry.
He looked controlled.
That was worse.
“What is this?” Gabriel asked.
Marco straightened.
“Collection.”
Gabriel looked at me.
Then the gun.
“From a pharmacist?”
“Her brother disappeared.”
“You were told to locate Liam Hayes.”
“He owes us.”
“I’m aware.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“Remove the gun.”
Marco hesitated.
One second.
Maybe less.
Gabriel’s eyes hardened.
“I said remove it.”
The pressure vanished.
I breathed.
Marco reached for his phone.
The screen illuminated.
And I saw it.
L.C.: Use the pharmacist. Costa either claims responsibility or looks weak. Get proof.
Marco shut the screen.
Too late.
Gabriel had noticed my expression.
“What did you see?”
Marco said, “Nothing.”
I looked directly at Gabriel.
“He has instructions.”
Marco moved.
A Costa bodyguard caught his wrist.
It happened without drama.
One second Marco was free.
The next his cheek was against wet brick and his arm was pinned behind him.
Gabriel held out his hand.
“Phone.”
“Boss.”
“Phone.”
The bodyguard removed it and gave it to Gabriel.
Gabriel examined the locked screen.
“Code.”
Marco stared at him.
Gabriel waited.
Marco said nothing.
“Bag it,” Gabriel ordered.
Another man placed the phone inside an evidence pouch.
Marco laughed nervously.
“You’re making this bigger than it is.”
“You brought a civilian to her knees behind a hospital.”
“Her brother stole from us.”
“Borrowed.”
“He ran.”
“That doesn’t explain the message.”
Marco’s face changed.
Gabriel saw it.
So did I.
“Who is L.C.?” Gabriel asked.
Marco looked away.
“Take him.”
Two men pulled Marco toward another vehicle.
Marco twisted around.
“Ask Leo.”
Gabriel went still.
That name meant nothing to me.
It meant something to him.
A lot.
Marco disappeared inside the car.
Gabriel turned toward me.
“Get up.”
I tried.
My legs buckled.
His hand caught my arm.
I recoiled automatically.
He released me immediately.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t apologize for expecting the worst after someone puts a gun against your head.”
He reached inside his coat.
I flinched again.
He slowed deliberately and produced a white handkerchief.
“Your lip.”
I pressed it against the cut.
“You knew my name.”
“Your brother’s file.”
“Liam has a file?”
“Unfortunately, Liam has several.”
“That sounds like him.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he looked toward the street.
“You need to leave.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“They know where I work.”
“I’ll deal with Marco.”
“I’m not talking about Marco.”
Gabriel studied me.
I pointed toward the bagged phone.
“Someone told him to use me.”
“Yes.”
“They wanted proof.”
“Yes.”
“Proof of what?”
“That remains unclear.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Costa either claims responsibility or looks weak.”
His eyes narrowed.
I continued.
“Someone wanted you connected to what happened to me.”
Gabriel said nothing.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then releasing me doesn’t fix anything.”
His jaw tightened because he knew I was right.
I looked past him.
A figure stood near the alley entrance.
Maybe a pedestrian.
Maybe not.
The figure raised a phone.
Camera pointed toward us.
Gabriel saw it.
So did his men.
The stranger ran.
One bodyguard started after him.
Gabriel stopped him.
“No.”
“Boss?”
“They want an image.”
My heart pounded.
“Then give them one.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“What?”
I didn’t know where the idea came from.
Fear, probably.
Fear makes cowards run.
It also makes ordinary people spectacularly stupid.
I grabbed the front of Gabriel’s burgundy jacket.
His bodyguards reacted.
Gabriel lifted one finger.
They stopped.
I leaned close enough to smell rain and cedar.
“Pretend you love me.”
His eyes met mine.
“What?”
“If someone wants proof that you claimed responsibility, don’t give them what they expect.”
“And what do you suggest?”
“Give them something bigger.”
He understood.
I saw the exact second it happened.
Then his arm went around my waist.
I expected performance.
Instead, Gabriel pulled me securely against his chest.
His hand came to my bruised cheek.
Gentle.
Careful.
Completely at odds with the man everyone in Boston feared.
He looked toward the alley entrance.
“Anyone touches her again,” he said, loud enough for whoever might still be listening, “they answer to me.”
My fingers tightened around his jacket.
He lowered his face toward mine.
“Convincing enough?”
I swallowed.
“Too convincing.”
“Good.”
Then his voice dropped.
“Because somebody just photographed us.”
His driver opened the sedan.
Gabriel guided me inside.
I expected him to sit somewhere else.
He sat beside me.
“Where are we going?”
“My house.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know you.”
“You asked me to pretend I love you four minutes ago.”
“That was situational.”
“So is this.”
I stared at him.
He took out another phone.
“Find Liam Hayes.”
The bodyguard in front nodded.
Gabriel looked at my bruised face.
“Your brother has some explaining to do.”
“My brother usually does.”
The car started moving.
I looked through the rear window.
A second vehicle followed.
Then my cracked phone rang from the seat beside Gabriel.
Someone had recovered it from the alley.
The screen showed Liam.
I grabbed it.
“Liam?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
“Quinn?”
“Where are you?”
“Listen to me.”
“You got me dragged behind my hospital!”
“I know.”
“A man put a gun against my head!”
“I know.”
That stopped me.
“How could you know?”
Liam began crying.
My brother almost never cried.
“Because the debt wasn’t mine.”
Gabriel turned toward me.
I put the call on speaker.
“What are you talking about?”
“They paid me to borrow it.”
“Who?”
“I thought it was just money laundering. I swear.”
“Who paid you?”
Liam whispered, “I found out what was inside the shipment.”
Gabriel leaned closer.
“What shipment?”
Liam heard his voice.
“Oh God.”
“Liam,” I said. “Talk.”
“They’re looking for something.”
“What?”
“A hospital inventory record.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why would criminals care about pharmacy inventory?”
“Because your name is on it.”
Gabriel’s face became completely still.
Liam whispered one final sentence.
“Quinn, they didn’t choose you because I owed Gabriel Costa money.”
The call disconnected.
Then a text arrived from Liam’s number.
It contained a photograph.
I opened it.
My blood went cold.
The photograph showed my mother.
She had been dead for five years.
But the timestamp on the image was from three days ago.
May you like
And standing beside her was a man Gabriel recognized immediately.
“Leo,” he whispered.
