Chapter 1 - The Boy Behind the Flour Sacks
A little boy gripped Emma's hand and whispered:
“Will you marry me, Miss Emma?”
Mafia boss Adrian Vale entered carrying a broken silver cuff link he had found outside the storage room.
Three letters were scratched beneath it:
“E.M.A.”
This was no random search.
Emma Carter stared at the boy as if the question itself had somehow become more dangerous than the men moving through the hallway.
“What?”
The child couldn't have been older than six.
His dark hair had fallen across his forehead, and his navy jacket was dusty from squeezing behind the flour sacks. His fingers were cold around hers.
“Will you marry me?”
His voice was barely audible.
Another door slammed somewhere beyond the storage room.
Emma flinched.
The boy didn't.
He simply kept staring up at her with those enormous brown eyes.
Emma had met him less than twenty minutes earlier.
She had been finishing the closing inventory at Bellini's, a small Italian restaurant in downtown Philadelphia where she worked evenings, when the kitchen lights suddenly went out.
Then someone had grabbed her from behind.
Emma had fought hard enough to get free.
She had run through the prep kitchen, knocked over a tray, and escaped through the pantry.
That was when she had discovered the boy hiding behind a stack of fifty-pound flour sacks.
He had put one finger to his lips.
“Don't let them hear you.”
Emma hadn't known who “they” were.
Then she heard men entering the kitchen.
Men who weren't restaurant employees.
Men who sounded as though they already knew her name.
So she had crawled behind the sacks beside the child and stayed silent.
Now he wanted to marry her.
Emma swallowed.
She could hear shoes scraping across the floor outside.
Someone tried the storage-room door.
Locked.
A man's voice said, “Check the back.”
Emma's heart slammed against her ribs.
The little boy squeezed her hand harder.
“Please.”
And Emma suddenly understood.
He wasn't proposing.
Not really.
He was scared.
Children sometimes turned terror into something they could control. A promise. A game. An imaginary shield.
Emma leaned closer.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Yes.”
The boy's face changed instantly.
Not happiness exactly.
Relief.
Deep, startling relief.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Then he nodded once.
As if some serious contract had just been completed.
Emma almost smiled.
Almost.
Then a heavy footstep stopped outside the storage room.
The boy turned toward the door.
Emma pulled him closer.
“Stay behind me.”
He looked at her strangely.
The handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
The lock clicked.
Emma froze.
She was certain she had locked it herself.
The door opened.
Hallway light cut across the dark storage room.
A tall man stood in the doorway.
Black suit.
Black shirt.
No tie.
Broad shoulders nearly filling the frame.
Two men stood several steps behind him.
Emma saw the outline of weapons beneath their jackets.
Her stomach dropped.
The stranger stepped inside.
He was young—perhaps thirty-four—but there was nothing youthful in his expression. His dark hair was combed back, his jaw clean-shaven, his eyes unnervingly calm.
Emma grabbed an empty glass bottle from a shelf.
“Don't come closer.”
The man stopped.
His gaze moved from the bottle to Emma.
Then to the boy beside her.
Something shifted in his face.
The little boy stepped out.
“Dad.”
Emma's fingers nearly released the bottle.
Dad?
The man looked down at the child.
“Lucas.”
One word.
But the tension beneath it was unmistakable.
Lucas ran toward him.
The man dropped to one knee and caught him.
For several seconds, the frightening stranger disappeared.
He became only a father checking his son's face, arms and shoulders.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did anyone touch you?”
“No.”
“Did you leave the dining room?”
Lucas hesitated.
Emma noticed.
So did his father.
“I heard shooting,” Lucas whispered.
The man's jaw tightened.
Emma looked toward the hallway.
Shooting?
She hadn't heard gunfire.
Perhaps she had been too busy fighting the man who grabbed her.
The father touched Lucas's hair.
“You did exactly what I taught you. You hid.”
Lucas shook his head.
“Emma hid me.”
The man's eyes rose.
Emma felt the room become smaller.
“Emma?”
Lucas pointed.
“That's Miss Emma.”
“I know who she is.”
The words chilled her.
Emma straightened.
“How?”
The man reached into his pocket.
Her grip tightened on the bottle.
He slowly brought out a small silver object.
A cuff link.
Broken at the hinge.
He held it between two fingers.
“I found this outside the door.”
Emma stared.
“I've never seen that before.”
“I didn't say it belonged to you.”
He turned it over.
Three letters had been scratched into the metal.
EMA.
Emma's throat went dry.
“That's not my name.”
“Close enough.”
“My name has two M's.”
“I noticed.”
She hated how calm he sounded.
Lucas tugged his father's sleeve.
“Dad.”
The man looked down.
“I proposed.”
Emma wanted the floor to open.
“Lucas—”
“He said yes,” the boy announced.
The man's gaze returned slowly to Emma.
For the first time, something almost human appeared in his eyes.
Confusion.
Then disbelief.
Emma raised both hands.
“He was frightened.”
“I wasn't frightened,” Lucas said.
“You were hiding behind flour.”
“I was being tactical.”
His father closed his eyes for half a second.
Emma would have laughed under different circumstances.
Instead she said, “I thought he needed reassurance.”
Lucas frowned.
“You promised.”
“I promised because—”
“Lucas.”
The father's voice ended the argument.
The boy became silent.
The man stood.
He was even taller than Emma had thought.
“My name is Adrian Vale.”
The name meant nothing for approximately two seconds.
Then it did.
Emma remembered newspapers.
Federal investigations.
Politicians refusing questions.
Businesses bought overnight.
Rumors about unions, ports and construction companies.
The Vale family.
Philadelphia to New York.
An organization journalists carefully called a “criminal network” when lawyers were listening.
Adrian Vale.
The man many newspapers had called the most powerful underworld figure on the East Coast.
Emma looked at Lucas.
Then Adrian.
Then at Lucas again.
“Oh.”
Lucas smiled.
Emma whispered, “Oh, no.”
One of the men in the hallway spoke.
“Mr. Vale.”
Adrian turned.
“We found Russo downstairs.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Keep him that way.”
Emma felt cold.
Adrian looked at her.
“You're coming with us.”
“No.”
It came out faster than she intended.
His expression did not change.
Emma lifted the bottle again.
“I don't care who you are. I'm not getting into a car with you.”
“You were attacked tonight.”
“I noticed.”
“The man who attacked you works for someone who knew my son was here.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“He called you by name.”
Emma said nothing.
Adrian stepped closer.
“Which makes it yours.”
A terrible thought crossed her mind.
“Did you bring those men here?”
“No.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn't.”
That answer startled her.
Adrian continued.
“You shouldn't trust anyone tonight. Including me.”
Lucas reached for Emma's hand.
She looked down.
The boy seemed calm now.
Too calm.
As if strange men, locked rooms and armed escorts were normal parts of childhood.
Emma hated that most of all.
“What happens if I don't go?”
Adrian looked toward the hallway.
Then he answered quietly.
“The police arrive. You give your statement. They take you home.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“And whoever sent the men tonight knows your address before you reach your apartment.”
Emma felt her confidence falter.
Adrian noticed.
“I have somewhere secure.”
“Of course you do.”
“Lucas will be there.”
She looked at the child.
That was unfair.
Adrian seemed to know it.
He looked almost annoyed with himself.
“I am not asking you to protect my son,” he said. “I'm telling you that until I know why your name was connected to an attempt to take him, neither of you is safe.”
Emma looked at the broken cuff link.
“Where exactly did you find that?”
“Outside this room.”
“Before or after you arrived?”
“Before.”
“Who dropped it?”
“We don't know.”
She held out her hand.
“Let me see.”
Adrian hesitated.
Then gave it to her.
Emma turned it under the weak overhead light.
EMA.
The scratches were uneven.
Fresh.
She ran her thumb over them.
Something else caught her attention.
A tiny dark stain inside the hinge.
Not blood.
Ink.
Blue ink.
Her stomach tightened.
“What?”
Adrian saw her expression.
Emma looked toward the door.
“The man who grabbed me.”
“What about him?”
“He had blue ink all over his right hand.”
Adrian's face became still.
“Did you see his face?”
“Only for a second.”
“Would you recognize him?”
“I think so.”
One of Adrian's men stepped inside.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We have a bigger problem.”
He handed Adrian a phone.
Adrian looked at the screen.
Every trace of emotion vanished.
Emma didn't know why, but that scared her more than anger would have.
“What happened?” she asked.
Adrian did not answer.
Lucas looked between them.
“Dad?”
Adrian finally turned the phone toward Emma.
A security-camera image filled the screen.
It showed the corridor outside the storage room from less than half an hour earlier.
Emma recognized herself running toward the pantry.
Behind her stood the man who had grabbed her.
His face was perfectly visible.
Emma stared.
She knew him.
Not from tonight.
From years ago.
“No,” she whispered.
Adrian's voice became dangerously quiet.
“Who is he?”
Emma couldn't breathe.
The man in the photograph had attended her father's funeral eight years earlier.
He had stood beside her mother.
He had hugged Emma afterward.
He had told her that if she ever needed anything, she should call.
And until three months ago, he had been her mother's husband.
“My stepfather.”
Adrian enlarged the image.
Lucas moved closer.
Emma's skin went cold.
Because her stepfather was not looking at Emma in the photograph.
He was looking directly at Lucas.
Then Adrian's phone rang.
He checked the number.
His eyes narrowed.
“What?”
A voice spoke loudly enough that Emma heard part of it.
“We found the second man.”
Adrian turned toward the doorway.
“Where?”
A pause.
Then the caller said something Emma couldn't hear.
Adrian looked directly at her.
“Say that again.”
His expression changed.
He lowered the phone slowly.
Emma whispered, “What?”
Adrian glanced toward Lucas.
Then back at her.
“The second man wasn't searching for my son.”
Emma's chest tightened.
“Who was he searching for?”
Adrian's answer never came.
A gunshot exploded from the hallway.
The lights went out.
Lucas screamed Emma's name.
May you like
And someone inside the dark storage room whispered:
“Emma Carter.”
