Chapter 2 - THE ACCIDENT
Grace Bennett knew she had made a terrible mistake the second the ballroom went silent.
Not because she had stopped Vanessa Sterling from slapping an elderly woman.
She would have done that again.
The mistake was realizing who she had protected.
Margaret DeLuca.
Even Grace, who spent most of her life moving between hospital rooms, double shifts, and a tiny apartment she could barely afford, knew that name.
DeLuca.
People in Chicago lowered their voices when they said it.
And Dominic DeLuca was now walking toward her.
Slowly.
The shattered champagne glasses glittered across the marble floor between them.
Dominic wore a black tuxedo with no tie, the top button of his white shirt open. He didn't need bodyguards to announce his importance. The men surrounding the ballroom already watched him with the nervous attention people gave an approaching storm.
Grace released Vanessa's wrist.
Vanessa immediately stepped backward.
“Dominic,” she whispered.
The arrogance had disappeared from her face.
Dominic didn't look at her.
His eyes stayed on Grace.
“You stopped her.”
It wasn't a question.
Grace swallowed.
“She was going to hit your mother.”
“I saw.”
Margaret reached for Grace's hand.
Her fingers were cool and fragile.
“What's your name, sweetheart?”
“Grace.”
“Grace what?”
“Bennett.”
Margaret smiled.
“Appropriate.”
Grace almost laughed from nerves.
Instead, she looked toward the banquet manager.
Mr. Keller stood near the kitchen doors, pale with fury.
Grace knew exactly what came next.
Termination.
She needed this job.
Her mother needed another round of treatment Monday. The hospital had already left three messages about the unpaid portion of the bill.
“I'm sorry about the glasses,” Grace said quickly. “I'll pay for them.”
Dominic's expression changed.
Only slightly.
“You're worried about glasses?”
“I broke them.”
Vanessa gave a nervous laugh.
“She attacked me.”
Grace turned.
“I stopped you from hitting someone in a wheelchair.”
“You grabbed me.”
“Because your hand was moving toward her face.”
Vanessa looked toward Dominic.
“She's lying.”
Margaret spoke before Grace could.
“No, darling. You were exactly as unpleasant as she says.”
Someone in the ballroom coughed to hide a laugh.
Vanessa's face burned red.
Her father, Senator Richard Sterling, appeared from the crowd.
“I'm sure this has been a misunderstanding.”
Dominic finally looked at him.
“No.”
One word.
The senator stopped.
Dominic turned to Keller.
“Is she employed by the hotel?”
Keller nodded rapidly.
“Yes, Mr. DeLuca.”
“For how long?”
“About eleven months.”
“Has she caused trouble before?”
Keller hesitated.
“No.”
Grace almost corrected him.
She had been late twice because her mother's chemotherapy sessions ran long.
But Dominic wasn't interested in attendance records.
He looked at Vanessa.
“You'll apologize.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“To the waitress?”
“To my mother.”
Margaret squeezed Grace's fingers.
“And to Grace.”
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
Half the room watched.
The other half pretended not to.
“I apologize.”
Margaret raised one eyebrow.
Vanessa exhaled sharply.
“I apologize, Mrs. DeLuca. And Grace.”
Dominic nodded toward the exit.
“Leave.”
Vanessa's father stepped forward.
“Dominic, surely—”
“Take your daughter home, Senator.”
The word senator somehow sounded like an insult.
Richard Sterling understood.
He took Vanessa by the arm.
They walked away.
Only then did Grace breathe again.
Mr. Keller hurried toward her.
“Grace, kitchen. Now.”
She lowered her head.
There it was.
“Grace stays.”
Dominic's voice stopped Keller.
Grace looked up.
“You don't need to do that.”
Dominic studied her.
“I haven't done anything.”
“Yes, you have.”
“What?”
“You just scared my boss into reconsidering firing me.”
Keller opened his mouth.
Dominic looked at him.
He closed it.
Margaret chuckled softly.
“Oh, I like her.”
Grace smiled despite herself.
Then a waiter screamed.
The sound came from outside.
A second later, the ballroom's tall windows exploded inward.
People ducked.
Glass rained across the floor.
Grace heard tires screaming from Michigan Avenue.
Then came the unmistakable crack of gunfire.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Chaos erupted.
Guests screamed and dropped beneath tables.
Security moved toward Dominic.
But Dominic moved toward his mother.
Grace was already doing the same.
“Down!”
She threw herself against Margaret's wheelchair.
A fourth shot hit the marble column behind them.
Stone fragments flew.
Dominic grabbed the wheelchair.
“Service hallway!”
Grace ran beside him.
Two large men closed around them.
They crossed the ballroom as another bullet struck the wall.
The musicians abandoned their instruments.
Politicians crawled behind velvet couches.
The richest people in Chicago were suddenly just terrified human beings.
Grace helped Dominic push Margaret through the kitchen doors.
“Lock them!” someone shouted.
Kitchen workers froze as security sealed the entrance.
Grace's heart hammered.
Dominic crouched beside his mother.
“Are you hurt?”
Margaret shook her head.
“I'm fine.”
Grace noticed blood.
“Wait.”
Dominic followed her stare.
Blood ran down Margaret's left wrist.
“Mom.”
“It’s only a scratch.”
Grace grabbed clean towels.
“It might be glass.”
She knelt beside Margaret.
“May I?”
Margaret nodded.
Grace carefully wrapped the wound.
Her hands were shaking.
Dominic noticed.
“Are you hurt?”
Grace shook her head.
Then the room tilted.
She grabbed the counter.
Dominic moved instantly.
“What happened?”
“I’m fine.”
“You're not.”
“I haven't eaten since breakfast.”
His stare sharpened.
“What time did your shift start?”
“Two.”
It was nearly eleven.
Dominic looked toward Keller.
“You didn't give staff dinner?”
“We had breaks scheduled—”
“I skipped mine,” Grace said.
“Why?”
She shouldn't have answered.
But exhaustion loosened her tongue.
“My mom called from the hospital.”
Dominic was silent.
Margaret looked at her.
“Is she ill?”
Grace nodded.
“Cancer.”
Margaret's expression softened.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Grace hated pity.
She stood quickly.
“She's fighting.”
A security officer entered.
“Mr. DeLuca.”
Dominic rose.
“What?”
“We found the vehicle.”
“Shooter?”
“Gone.”
Dominic's face became unreadable.
“Target?”
The officer glanced at Grace, Keller, and the kitchen staff.
Dominic said, “Speak.”
“Based on trajectory…”
He hesitated.
“The shots weren't aimed at you.”
Dominic frowned.
“They were aimed at Mrs. DeLuca.”
Grace felt Margaret's hand tighten around hers.
Dominic's eyes turned cold.
Very cold.
“Who knew she would be here tonight?”
“Dozens.”
“Who knew exactly where she would be seated?”
The officer said nothing.
Grace looked toward the kitchen door.
Something bothered her.
The shots.
The timing.
The shattered window.
She remembered Vanessa standing beside Margaret.
The anger.
The senator.
Then something else.
Before the shooting, Grace had noticed a man near the orchestra.
Not a guest.
Not staff.
He had worn a catering jacket, but there had been no hotel logo on it.
He had been watching Margaret.
And Grace had seen him earlier.
Where?
Her stomach turned.
“The parking garage.”
Dominic looked at her.
“What?”
Grace struggled to remember.
“I saw someone.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Grace.”
She pointed toward the ballroom.
“There was a man near the musicians. Gray catering jacket. Baseball cap.”
One security man immediately touched his earpiece.
Grace continued.
“I saw him before my shift.”
“Where?”
“Parking level three.”
“Doing what?”
“He was standing near a black SUV.”
Dominic's expression changed.
“What SUV?”
Grace closed her eyes.
A memory returned.
Black Cadillac.
Tinted windows.
Illinois plate.
And a silver emblem hanging from the rearview mirror.
A wolf.
“I don't know the plate.”
“Anything else?”
Grace nodded slowly.
“There was a wolf symbol.”
The security men looked at one another.
Dominic's jaw tightened.
Margaret whispered one word.
“No.”
Grace looked between them.
“What?”
Dominic straightened.
“You need to leave.”
Grace blinked.
“What?”
“Now.”
“But—”
“Marco.”
A broad-shouldered man stepped forward.
“Take Miss Bennett home.”
Grace pulled away.
“I can take the train.”
“No.”
“I always take the train.”
“Not tonight.”
She stared at him.
“You don't get to order me around because I helped your mother.”
Something almost like amusement flashed across his face.
Then disappeared.
“You saw a man who may have participated in an attempt to murder her.”
Grace went still.
“That makes you a witness.”
“And?”
“And whoever fired those shots may know you saw him.”
The words landed heavily.
Grace thought about her apartment.
Her mother.
The hospital.
“You're trying to scare me.”
“I'm trying to keep you alive.”
Before Grace could answer, the lights went out.
The kitchen fell into darkness.
Someone shouted.
A pan crashed.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Red.
Dim.
Dominic pulled a pistol from beneath his jacket.
Grace froze.
Until that moment, part of her had wondered whether the stories about him were exaggerated.
They weren't.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
A security guard rushed toward the service entrance.
Then Grace heard something roll across the floor.
Small.
Metallic.
It stopped near the refrigerator.
Dominic saw it.
His face changed.
“MOVE!”
He grabbed Grace.
The explosion came a fraction of a second later.
The blast threw them across the kitchen.
Grace hit the floor.
Her ears screamed.
Smoke filled the room.
Somewhere Margaret was shouting.
Grace tried to push herself up.
Pain tore through her side.
She couldn't breathe.
Dominic was on top of her, shielding her from falling debris.
“Grace.”
She heard his voice as if from underwater.
“Grace, look at me.”
She opened her eyes.
Blood ran from his temple.
“Your mother…”
“She’s alive.”
Grace tried to stand.
Dominic pressed her gently down.
“Don't move.”
“My ribs…”
“I know.”
Security rushed through the smoke.
“Ambulance!”
Grace coughed.
Then she remembered something.
The metal object had come through the service doorway.
Which meant the attacker hadn't been outside.
Someone was inside the hotel.
She grabbed Dominic's sleeve.
“He's here.”
Dominic leaned closer.
“What?”
“The man.”
Her vision blurred.
“He never left.”
Then Grace saw a figure through the smoke behind Dominic.
Gray jacket.
Baseball cap.
The man raised a gun.
Grace screamed.
“DOMINIC!”
Dominic turned.
Two shots exploded.
May you like
Grace felt warm blood splash across her hand.
Then everything went black.
