Chapter 3 - The Price of Protection
Chloe found the envelope beneath her apartment door at six fifteen.
No stamp.
No name.
Inside was a photograph of her walking home from Harrison’s Diner two weeks earlier.
Someone had circled her face.
On the back were five words.
YOU SHOULD HAVE KEPT WALKING.
Chloe stopped breathing.
Then she called the police.
Not Mason.
The police.
Because she was still angry enough to make a point.
Twenty minutes later, two officers stood in her kitchen.
They photographed the envelope.
Asked questions.
Promised patrol checks.
Asked whether she knew anyone who might target her.
Chloe almost laughed.
“How much time do you have?”
She told them about the diner.
About Mason.
About the men.
One officer looked at the other.
“Vale?”
“Yes.”
“And you intervened?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m apparently an idiot.”
The older officer did not smile.
“Ms. Bennett, this may be serious.”
“That sentence is extremely comforting.”
“We recommend staying somewhere else for a few days.”
“I can’t afford somewhere else.”
“Family?”
“My mother is recovering. I’m not bringing this to her.”
A knock hit the door.
Both officers turned.
Chloe knew before anyone opened it.
Mason.
He stood in the hallway wearing a charcoal coat over a black shirt.
No scuffed boots.
No empty wallet.
No pretending.
He looked like the man newspapers photographed.
Expensive.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
And furious.
His eyes went straight to the photograph in the evidence bag.
“Where did you get that?”
Chloe crossed her arms.
“Good morning to you too.”
Mason ignored her tone.
“When?”
“This morning.”
He looked at the officers.
“I need to see it.”
“You don’t need anything,” Chloe said.
One officer stepped between them.
“Sir—”
Mason held up both hands.
“I’m not interfering.”
“That would be a first,” Chloe muttered.
His eyes found hers.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Was anyone inside?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“No.”
Mason exhaled slowly.
Then looked at the photograph again.
“I know that handwriting.”
Chloe’s anger vanished for one second.
“Whose?”
Mason did not answer.
That brought it back.
“Of course.”
“Chloe.”
“No. You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Show up with half the truth and decide I should trust you with the rest.”
“This is different.”
“Everything is different when you need it to be.”
The officer cleared his throat.
“Do you two need a minute?”
“No,” Chloe said.
“Yes,” Mason said.
They stared at each other.
The officer sighed.
“I’m going to check the hallway.”
When they were alone, Mason lowered his voice.
“The writing may belong to someone who works for Victor.”
“Your cousin?”
“Yes.”
“The one whose men came into the diner?”
“Yes.”
“Why does he care about me?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to believe I’m trying to find out.”
Chloe looked away.
She wanted him gone.
She also wanted answers.
That made everything worse.
Mason saw the overdue notice on the table.
Four thousand by Monday.
He said nothing.
Good.
At least he had learned one lesson.
“I can put security outside the building.”
“No.”
“They won’t bother you.”
“Men sitting outside my apartment in black SUVs absolutely bother me.”
“They can use normal cars.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Mason stepped closer.
Not too close.
“I also know someone photographed you before last night.”
Chloe looked at him.
He told her about the receipt.
The number.
23,816.
Her face drained.
“You had that number before you met me?”
“It was in the wallet.”
“Who put it there?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“No.”
That answer stopped her.
Mason continued.
“I wouldn’t believe me either.”
For the first time, he did not defend himself.
That mattered more than Chloe wanted it to.
She sat down.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
“People like you always want something.”
“People like me?”
“Powerful men who walk into diners pretending to be somebody else.”
He accepted the hit.
“I want you safe.”
“Why?”
His answer came too fast.
“Because this is my fault.”
Chloe studied him.
Not because you care.
Because you feel guilty.
She did not say it.
Maybe because she was afraid he would agree.
Pete called at seven.
“Do not come in.”
“I have a shift.”
“Window is broken.”
“I know.”
“Police still there?”
“Yes.”
“And Mr. Eight Dollars?”
Chloe looked at Mason.
“He’s here.”
Pete whistled.
“I suddenly feel safer and less safe.”
“Same.”
“Stay home.”
“I need hours.”
“Chloe.”
“I need money.”
Pete went quiet.
Then: “Your shift is covered.”
“By who?”
“Me.”
“You own the place.”
“Exactly.”
“You can’t cover yourself.”
“Watch me.”
He hung up.
Mason had heard enough.
“Four thousand?”
Chloe’s head snapped toward him.
“No.”
“I didn’t offer.”
“You were thinking loudly.”
“I can help.”
“I said no.”
“It wouldn’t matter to me.”
“That’s exactly why it would matter to me.”
He frowned.
Chloe stood.
“You don’t understand what it feels like to owe people.”
His expression changed.
She saw it.
A shadow.
“I understand better than you think.”
“Financially?”
“No.”
“Then we are talking about different things.”
Mason looked out the window.
“Debt isn’t always money.”
Something in his voice kept Chloe from responding.
His phone rang.
Luca.
Mason answered.
“What?”
He listened.
Then his face hardened.
“When?”
Another pause.
“I’m coming.”
He hung up.
“What happened?” Chloe asked.
“Nothing you need involved in.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Did you actually hear yourself?”
Mason cursed under his breath.
“Fine. Someone broke into Harrison’s office.”
“What?”
“They took the diner’s property records.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You say that a lot.”
“And I hate it every time.”
Chloe grabbed her coat.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You are not going.”
“My workplace was broken into.”
“That is why you are not going.”
“Mason.”
He froze.
First time she had used his name.
Chloe noticed.
So did he.
“I’m going.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You lied to me for entertainment.”
“It wasn’t entertainment.”
“Then explain why you tested me.”
He looked away.
“I told you.”
“No. You gave me the polished answer. People pretend around you. You wanted to know whether I was kind. Why me?”
Mason did not answer.
There it was again.
Another missing piece.
Chloe opened the door.
“If you want me to trust you, stop making me drag every truth out of you.”
They went to Harrison’s.
The front window was boarded.
Police tape crossed Pete’s office.
Nothing else appeared disturbed.
The safe had not been opened.
Cash remained.
Only one file drawer had been emptied.
Property deeds.
Lease agreements.
Old tax records.
Pete sat at the counter looking ten years older.
“I’m selling.”
Chloe stared at him.
“What?”
“I’m done.”
Mason stiffened.
Pete pointed at him.
“This started because somebody wants the building.”
Mason said nothing.
Pete laughed bitterly.
“Thought so.”
Chloe turned.
“You wanted Harrison’s?”
Mason closed his eyes briefly.
Another truth.
Another lie by omission.
“My company made an offer.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“You came here to test me while trying to buy the place where I work?”
“It’s more complicated.”
“No. It’s actually becoming extremely simple.”
Pete stood.
“I rejected the offer.”
Mason looked at him.
“I know.”
“Then inspections started.”
“I didn’t authorize them.”
“Suppliers backed out.”
“I didn’t authorize that either.”
“Someone sure enjoys doing things you don’t authorize.”
Mason took the hit.
Chloe felt sick.
Harrison’s was not glamorous.
But it had paid her rent through her mother’s illness.
Pete had let her sleep in the office after twelve-hour hospital nights.
Customers had mailed Elaine cards.
It was family.
Mason had walked in pretending to be poor while his company circled the building.
“I’m leaving,” Chloe said.
Mason followed her.
Outside, she rounded on him.
“Do not.”
“I need to explain.”
“You need to stop appearing wherever I go.”
“I cannot do that while someone is threatening you.”
“Then tell me everything.”
Mason hesitated.
Wrong choice.
Chloe laughed.
“There it is.”
She walked toward the bus stop.
His voice followed.
“My father died because I trusted the wrong person.”
She stopped.
Mason stayed where he was.
“When he got sick, everyone around us became helpful. Loyal. Kind. Then someone gave his medical records to a rival family. Someone who had eaten at our table for fifteen years.”
Chloe turned slowly.
“My father survived the attack that followed. My younger brother didn’t.”
The anger inside her shifted.
Not gone.
Changed.
“I was twenty-four,” Mason said. “Since then, I test people before I trust them.”
“That explains you.”
“It doesn’t excuse me.”
“No.”
“I noticed you because Pete refused to sell. I started watching the diner to understand why. Then I watched you.”
“That sounds creepy.”
“It does when you say it.”
“It sounds creepy when anyone says it.”
A reluctant smile touched his mouth.
Then disappeared.
“I saw you give food away when Pete wasn’t looking.”
“He knew.”
“I saw you pay for Mr. Ellis’s prescription.”
Chloe stiffened.
“How do you know that?”
“I was sitting two booths away.”
“You were watching me before last night.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Three weeks.”
She stared.
“You could have just spoken to me.”
“I’m not very good at normal.”
“That may be the first completely honest thing you’ve said.”
Mason stepped closer.
“I’m sorry.”
Chloe looked at him.
No excuse.
No qualification.
Just the words.
She hated how much she wanted to believe them.
Her phone vibrated.
A text.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
She opened it.
A photograph appeared.
Mason standing outside Harrison’s beside her.
Taken seconds earlier.
Then another message.
ASK HIM WHAT HAPPENED TO DANIEL BENNETT.
Chloe stopped breathing.
Her father’s name.
Mason saw the screen.
And for the first time since she had met him, Mason Vale looked afraid.
Chloe raised her eyes.
“What happened to my father?”
May you like
Mason said nothing.
That was answer enough to make her blood run cold.
