Chapter 1 - The Only Empty Seat
Alessandra Ferraro stepped over a streak of blood while her sleeping son clung to her neck and whispered:
“Please don’t wake up, baby.”
Massimo Costa turned from an overturned table and noticed the flash drive hanging from her broken purse.
Three letters had been scratched into its metal casing.
VSI.
Massimo stopped breathing.
This woman had not wandered into his lounge by accident.
Alessandra didn’t know that.
She knew only that her arms were failing.
Leo weighed thirty-four pounds on a good day. After three hours of carrying him through Manhattan, hiding beneath awnings, changing subway lines twice, and walking the final twenty blocks because she no longer trusted taxis, he felt closer to a hundred.
His damp curls pressed against her cheek.
His navy jacket was cold.
His little sneakers hung beside her knees.
She had wrapped him in the gray blanket she kept in her emergency bag, but the rain had found its way through that too.
Alessandra herself had stopped feeling the cold an hour earlier.
Fear had replaced it.
The lounge was filled with people who looked as though they had forgotten how to breathe.
A man lay near the overturned table.
Another man stood near the entrance holding a cloth against his mouth.
Two enormous security guards watched her.
And beside the red leather booth stood the man Alessandra recognized immediately.
Massimo Costa.
His photograph had never appeared in any corporate directory she had audited.
His name had.
Indirectly.
Always indirectly.
A consulting firm owned by another company that leased warehouse space from a third company whose directors somehow shared accountants with businesses controlling half the freight moving through three terminals.
Massimo Costa lived in the spaces between signatures.
And now he was standing ten feet from her.
He wore black.
Not charcoal, Alessandra realized as she moved closer.
Black suit.
Black shirt.
No tie.
His dark hair was pushed back, though one strand had fallen across his forehead. Purple bruising darkened the skin beneath his left eye.
Blood covered two knuckles.
He looked like a man who had just finished something terrible and had already moved on emotionally.
Alessandra looked at the empty seat.
Then at him.
“Can I sit here?”
Someone behind her whispered, “Jesus Christ.”
Massimo stared.
His eyes moved from Alessandra to Leo.
Then back.
“You walked into this room,” he said slowly, “and that is your question?”
“My other questions require more energy.”
Something shifted in his expression.
Not amusement exactly.
Interest.
He glanced at the booth.
A dark streak marked the red leather.
He picked up a white napkin and wiped it away.
“Sit.”
“Thank you.”
Alessandra lowered herself carefully.
Pain shot through both arms as Leo’s weight shifted.
He stirred.
“Mommy?”
“I’m here.”
His eyes never opened.
She tucked the blanket beneath his chin.
Across from her, Massimo sat.
The room remained silent.
Alessandra finally looked around.
“Does everyone usually stare?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“They’re staring because you’re sitting there.”
She looked down.
“Is the seat reserved?”
Massimo’s mouth almost moved.
Almost.
“You could say that.”
“I’ll move when my arms start working again.”
“You’re not leaving after.”
Alessandra slowly raised her eyes.
“Is that a threat?”
“Observation.”
She was too tired to be intimidated properly.
That probably explained what happened next.
She reached across the table, took the bourbon sitting near his hand, and drank.
Several people inhaled.
Massimo looked at the glass.
Then at her.
“That was mine.”
“I know.”
“You make unusual decisions.”
“Today has been unusual.”
He leaned back.
“You have a name?”
“So do you.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Mine seems to have reached you.”
“Massimo Costa.”
“And you?”
Alessandra said nothing.
It lasted perhaps two seconds.
That was enough.
His expression changed.
“Alessandra Ferraro.”
Every muscle in her body locked.
Leo remained asleep against her.
“How do you know that?”
Massimo rested his forearms on the table.
“Everyone knows your name tonight.”
She tried not to react.
She failed.
Not dramatically.
Just one small movement of her fingers against Leo’s blanket.
Massimo saw it.
Of course he did.
“How much?” she asked.
His gaze sharpened.
“You know there’s a contract?”
“I know the people looking for me aren’t bringing flowers.”
“Two million.”
Alessandra stared at him.
Then she picked up the bourbon again.
She drank.
Massimo watched.
“That is either courage or shock.”
She set down the glass.
“Disappointment.”
His eyebrow rose.
“I would’ve thought I was worth more.”
For one extraordinary second, Massimo Costa looked surprised.
Then he laughed.
It wasn’t loud.
It was barely even a laugh.
But fifty people seemed more frightened by that sound than they had been by the blood on the floor.
Alessandra rubbed Leo’s back.
Massimo’s attention returned to the flash drive hanging from her purse.
“What is VSI?”
Her hand immediately covered it.
Too fast.
Massimo noticed that too.
“Nothing.”
“Bad answer.”
“It’s three letters.”
“Three letters that made you protect that drive before you protected your purse.”
Alessandra looked at him.
“And you’re very observant.”
“It keeps me alive.”
“So does minding your own business.”
This time, the corner of his mouth actually lifted.
“You know who I am, yet you say things like that.”
“I’ve had a difficult day.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No.”
“Then tell me why Vanessa Serrano has offered two million dollars for your body.”
The name hit harder than the price.
Alessandra’s exhaustion disappeared.
“What did you say?”
“Vanessa Serrano.”
“You know her?”
Massimo’s expression emptied.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“That answer costs more than your bourbon.”
Alessandra looked around.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Vanessa Serrano.
Chief operating officer of Vantage Shipping International.
VSI.
The woman who had hired Alessandra personally eighteen months earlier.
The woman who had praised her work.
The woman who had sent Leo a birthday present.
The woman whose signature appeared on three accounts Alessandra had discovered that morning.
Fifty million dollars.
Gone.
No legitimate destination.
No legitimate vendors.
Just shells.
Then, at 9:17 that morning, Alessandra had intercepted the message.
FERRARO KNOWS.
TRANSFER LIABILITY TO HER CREDENTIALS.
RECOVER FILES.
REMOVE HER AFTER.
She had stared at those words for twelve seconds.
Then she had copied everything.
At 9:32 she left the office.
At 9:51 she withdrew cash.
At 10:18 she picked Leo up from preschool.
At 10:44 someone entered her apartment.
She knew because the security camera on her phone showed two men walking through her kitchen.
At 10:46 the feed disappeared.
She never went home.
“Mommy.”
Leo moved.
Alessandra immediately softened.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Cold.”
Massimo stood.
She stiffened.
He removed his suit jacket.
The entire room seemed to notice.
He stepped around the table.
Alessandra instinctively pulled Leo closer.
Massimo stopped.
He looked at her.
Then held out the jacket.
“For him.”
Alessandra hesitated.
Blood marked one cuff.
Otherwise it was clean.
She took it.
“Thank you.”
Massimo watched her wrap the expensive jacket around a three-year-old who immediately curled into it.
Something changed in his face.
It vanished too quickly for Alessandra to identify.
“Your husband?” he asked.
“Don’t have one.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Leo’s father?”
Her gaze hardened.
“No.”
Massimo understood the boundary.
He returned to his seat.
“Where were you going?”
“I didn’t have a destination.”
“That is dangerous.”
“So is having one.”
Massimo nodded once.
That answer apparently satisfied him.
Then the front door opened.
A broad-shouldered man entered.
Alessandra had noticed him earlier near the bar. He was perhaps forty, with close-cropped hair and a scar near his ear.
He walked quickly toward Massimo.
“Boss.”
He leaned down.
Whispered.
Massimo’s face changed.
Every trace of amusement disappeared.
“How many?”
“Four cars.”
“People?”
“Minimum twelve.”
“Vanessa?”
“Her people.”
Massimo looked directly at Alessandra.
Her stomach dropped.
“Back entrance?” he asked.
“Covered.”
“Garage?”
“Two vehicles blocking it.”
The room transformed.
People moved.
Men who had appeared to be ordinary guests opened jackets.
Weapons appeared.
Doors locked.
Lights dimmed.
Alessandra stood.
Massimo caught her wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from the shooting.”
“They’re here for you.”
“Exactly.”
“You walk through that door, you die.”
“I stay here, your people die.”
“They knew the employment conditions.”
Despite herself, she stared.
“Was that a joke?”
“No.”
“That somehow makes it worse.”
Leo woke.
His eyes opened slowly.
“Mommy?”
“I’m right here.”
Then he noticed Massimo.
Children had instincts adults lost.
Leo studied the bruised stranger.
Then the blood on his hand.
“You got hurt.”
Massimo looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Did you cry?”
Several armed men glanced over.
Massimo seemed uncertain how to answer.
“No.”
Leo considered this.
“My mommy says crying is okay.”
Alessandra closed her eyes.
“Leo.”
“What?”
Massimo looked at Alessandra.
Then back at Leo.
“Your mother is right.”
Leo nodded, satisfied.
“Do you have a Band-Aid?”
“No.”
“I have dinosaurs.”
He began fumbling inside Alessandra’s purse.
“Leo, sweetheart, not now.”
But he found the small packet.
He pulled out a green dinosaur bandage.
Massimo stared at it.
Leo held it toward him.
“For your hand.”
Nobody spoke.
Massimo slowly extended his injured hand.
Leo pressed the bandage crookedly across one split knuckle.
“There.”
Massimo studied it.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
A gunshot exploded outside.
Alessandra dropped instantly, shielding Leo.
Massimo moved even faster.
His body came over both of them.
Another shot struck the glass.
People screamed.
Massimo shouted orders in Italian.
His men returned fire from protected positions.
“Kitchen!” someone yelled.
Massimo grabbed Alessandra.
“Move.”
She held Leo and followed.
They passed through swinging doors.
Stainless-steel counters.
Terrified kitchen staff.
A security man opened a service corridor.
Massimo shoved Alessandra inside.
“Marco, with me. Nico, take the woman.”
“No,” Alessandra said.
Massimo turned.
“I’m not going anywhere without knowing where.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Gunfire cracked behind them.
Massimo stared at her.
“Fine. My house.”
“No.”
His expression became almost incredulous.
“No?”
“I don’t know you.”
“You know the men outside want to murder you.”
“That does not automatically make you trustworthy.”
Massimo stepped closer.
“No. But it makes me the better option.”
Leo suddenly spoke from her shoulder.
“Mommy.”
“Yes?”
“The scary man has my dinosaur.”
Silence.
Massimo looked down at the ridiculous green bandage on his bloody knuckle.
Alessandra almost laughed.
Instead, something broke inside her.
Exhaustion.
Fear.
The knowledge that she had no plan left.
She looked at Massimo.
“One night.”
He nodded.
“One night.”
“You don’t touch my files.”
“No.”
“You don’t separate me from Leo.”
“No.”
“And if I decide to leave—”
“You won’t.”
“There you go again.”
“Observation.”
Before she could answer, Massimo’s phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
His expression became stone.
“Who is it?” Alessandra asked.
Massimo did not answer.
She saw the message anyway.
A photograph had arrived.
It showed Alessandra’s apartment.
Inside it stood Vanessa Serrano.
Vanessa was holding something in her hand.
Leo’s birth certificate.
Below the photograph were six words.
ASK HER WHO LEO’S FATHER IS.
Massimo slowly raised his eyes toward Alessandra.
Then someone knocked three times on the locked service door.
May you like
A familiar woman’s voice came through from the other side.
“Alessandra? Open the door. I know what you did.”
