Chapter 1 - The Men at the Door
The click of the telephone settling back into its cradle sounded louder than the thunder outside.
Natalie Brooks stayed frozen beside the kitchen wall.
The stranger’s hand remained locked around her wrist.
His grip had weakened, but not enough to make her forget what kind of man could wake from near death and immediately calculate every threat in the room.
“Let go of me,” Natalie said.
His gray eyes held hers for another second.
Then his fingers opened.
Natalie pulled her hand against her chest and rubbed the red marks already forming across her skin.
“You’re in my house,” she whispered. “My son is upstairs. I dragged you out of the ground, stopped you from bleeding to death, and now you’re telling me criminals control the police?”
“Not all police.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
At least he wasn’t pretending.
Outside, Goliath suddenly barked.
Once.
Deep.
Violent.
Natalie went still.
Goliath never barked without a reason.
The injured man changed instantly.
Ten seconds earlier he had looked half-conscious.
Now every muscle Natalie could see went tense beneath the thermal blankets.
“Turn off the kitchen light.”
“What?”
“Now.”
Another bark exploded from the porch.
Then came headlights.
They swept across the rain-streaked front windows.
Natalie’s blood turned cold.
A vehicle was crawling up the muddy road leading to her cabin.
Then another.
The man forced himself onto one elbow.
His face drained white from the effort.
“How many?”
Natalie crossed the kitchen and carefully pulled the curtain aside.
Two black SUVs.
No emergency markings.
No ambulance.
No sheriff’s star.
Nothing.
The engines shut off.
Four doors opened.
Then two more.
Six men stepped into the rain.
Natalie’s stomach twisted.
“They’re here.”
The stranger tried to stand.
His knees buckled instantly.
Natalie caught him before his head struck the kitchen table.
“You can barely breathe.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if you pass out before they get through my door.”
He gripped the table.
“Do you have somewhere underground?”
Natalie stared at him.
“What?”
“Basement. Cellar. Crawlspace.”
“There’s an old storm cellar beneath the pantry. I’ve never used it.”
“Get me there.”
The pounding started.
Three enormous blows against the front door.
Goliath erupted.
His snarling was so deep Natalie felt it through the floorboards.
A man outside shouted, “Ma’am! County Sheriff’s Department!”
The stranger looked at her.
Natalie’s eyes narrowed.
“You said they owned the dispatcher.”
“They own someone wearing a badge.”
Another pounding.
“Mrs. Brooks! Open the door!”
Natalie’s heart nearly stopped.
They knew her name.
She looked toward the staircase.
Liam was still upstairs.
Sleeping.
She couldn’t gamble with his life.
Natalie grabbed the stranger beneath one arm and helped drag him toward the pantry.
His bare feet left faint streaks of blood across the hardwood.
She cursed under her breath, grabbed a dish towel, and wiped as quickly as she could.
Behind a stack of canned beans and cleaning supplies was a narrow wooden trapdoor.
Natalie lifted it.
Cold air breathed upward.
A short ladder descended into darkness.
“You’ll have to climb.”
“I’ll manage.”
“You can barely stand.”
“Then push.”
Natalie almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
Instead she helped him lower himself onto the ladder.
His wounded abdomen nearly gave way halfway down.
He bit back a groan.
Natalie handed him his ruined trousers, a blanket, and the trauma kit.
“Don’t make a sound.”
He looked up at her.
“If they threaten your child, tell them I forced you.”
“You didn’t.”
“They don’t know that.”
Something in his expression changed.
For the first time since waking, the terrifying authority disappeared.
“You saved my life,” he said quietly. “I won’t let that become the reason you lose yours.”
Natalie slammed the trapdoor shut.
She covered it with a rug and shoved two crates of canned food over it.
Then she ran toward the staircase.
“Liam!”
Her son appeared halfway down before she reached him.
His brown hair stuck up wildly.
He clutched his stuffed bear in one arm.
“What’s happening?”
“Nothing.”
Another tremendous knock shook the door.
Liam flinched.
“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
Natalie crouched.
“Listen to me. I need you to go back to your room and lock the door.”
His eyes widened.
“Mom—”
“Do exactly what I said.”
“What about Goliath?”
“He’s with me.”
Liam hesitated.
Natalie kissed his forehead.
“Go.”
He ran.
Natalie waited until his bedroom lock clicked.
Then she approached the front door.
Goliath stood on the porch between the door and the strangers.
His giant body was rigid.
Rain poured off his massive shoulders.
One man held a flashlight.
Another rested his hand suspiciously close to the weapon beneath his jacket.
Natalie opened the door only six inches, leaving the security chain fastened.
“Yes?”
The man nearest the door lifted a badge.
It flashed too quickly for Natalie to read.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Sheriff’s office.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Missing hunter.”
“In this weather?”
The man smiled.
It was not a friendly smile.
“People make poor decisions.”
Behind him stood a tall man with a shaved head.
Mud covered his expensive boots.
Natalie stared at them.
Her nurse’s brain noticed details even while terror crawled through her body.
No reflective jackets.
No radios clipped visibly to their shoulders.
No department vehicle.
And the man showing her the badge had immaculate trousers despite supposedly searching muddy forest.
Something was wrong.
“What does the missing hunter look like?” Natalie asked.
The smile faded slightly.
“White male. Forty. Dark hair.”
“Half of Pennsylvania.”
“We’re checking every property nearby.”
“I haven’t seen anyone.”
The shaved-headed man stepped closer.
Goliath lunged.
The sound that came from the mastiff was almost prehistoric.
The man stopped.
“Control your dog.”
“He is controlled.”
“He looks dangerous.”
“He thinks you are.”
The first man’s expression hardened.
“We need to come inside.”
“Do you have a warrant?”
“We’re dealing with a potential emergency.”
“So am I. My seven-year-old is sleeping upstairs.”
Lightning flashed.
For half a second, Natalie saw something on the shaved-headed man’s hand.
A ring.
Silver.
Engraved with a wolf.
Not exactly the same as the gold ring on the man beneath her pantry.
But close enough.
Her pulse kicked painfully.
They belonged to the same world.
“Mrs. Brooks,” the first man said softly, “we know you work emergency medicine. If someone came to your property injured, you might feel obligated to help.”
Natalie kept her face blank.
“I’m a nurse. Of course I would.”
“Did someone?”
“No.”
Goliath growled again.
The man glanced toward the kitchen.
Natalie realized with horror that the space heater was still running.
And beside it lay a cut strip of expensive black fabric.
The stranger’s shirt.
She shifted her body to block the view.
The man noticed.
His eyes returned to hers.
“Mind if I ask why you’re awake at two seventeen in the morning?”
“My dog needed outside.”
“In a hurricane?”
“He’s a hundred and sixty pounds. When he needs outside, weather doesn’t get a vote.”
For one strange second, the man almost smiled.
Then another member of the group shouted from beside the house.
“Got blood.”
Natalie’s heart stopped.
Everyone turned.
The shaved-headed man walked off the porch.
Goliath followed him with his eyes.
A moment later, the man returned holding his flashlight toward the muddy wheelbarrow.
Dark red streaks stained one side.
Blood.
Natalie’s blood.
From her broken fingernails and cut palms.
But they didn’t know that.
“Something you want to explain?” the fake deputy asked.
Natalie looked at the wheelbarrow.
Then at him.
“My dog found a dead deer about a hundred yards back. I tried moving part of the carcass away from my trail. There are coyotes everywhere.”
“Funny.”
“What is?”
“We didn’t see a deer.”
“You didn’t ask where it was.”
The man stared at her for a long time.
Then the shaved-headed man stepped toward the doorway again.
Goliath exploded forward.
The security chain rattled as Natalie instinctively moved back.
The enormous dog planted himself in the doorway, teeth exposed, amber eyes fixed on the stranger.
The man stopped.
Natalie saw fear.
Real fear.
“Call him off.”
“I suggest you step off my porch.”
The fake deputy inhaled slowly.
Then he smiled.
“Of course.”
He backed away.
One by one the men returned to the SUVs.
Before getting inside, the shaved-headed man turned.
His eyes met Natalie’s through the rain.
Then he dragged one finger slowly across his throat.
The vehicles disappeared down the road.
Natalie did not move for nearly a minute.
When the final red taillight vanished, her legs almost collapsed.
She locked everything.
Then she ran to the pantry.
She pulled away the crates and lifted the trapdoor.
The injured stranger was sitting against the stone wall below.
A small pistol rested in his hand.
Natalie stared.
“Where did you get that?”
“Ankle holster.”
“I cut your clothes off.”
“You missed one thing.”
“You had a gun in my cellar while my child was upstairs?”
“I had a gun because six men were outside deciding whether to murder you.”
Natalie climbed halfway down.
“They knew my name.”
His silence confirmed her fear.
“They knew where I lived.”
“Yes.”
“They knew I was a nurse.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
She studied him.
“You do know something.”
He looked away.
Natalie’s voice dropped.
“Who are you?”
The thunder rolled again.
The stranger slowly set the pistol beside him.
Then he looked directly into her eyes.
“My name is Roman Bellandi.”
Natalie waited.
She had never heard the name before.
Roman seemed almost relieved.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“It means you’ve stayed away from people like me.”
“What people?”
His jaw hardened.
“The kind who don’t get buried unless someone wants a war.”
Natalie felt cold spread through her that had nothing to do with the storm.
Roman continued.
“Thirty-six hours ago, I ran the Bellandi organization from Boston to Baltimore.”
Natalie stared.
He didn’t have to explain further.
She understood.
Organized crime.
Not a street criminal.
Not a wounded stranger.
A syndicate boss.
The man she had dragged into the same house where her son slept.
Natalie whispered, “Oh my God.”
Roman looked toward the ceiling.
Toward Liam.
Then toward the door where Goliath still stood guard.
“I was supposed to be dead before midnight.”
Natalie swallowed.
“But you aren’t.”
“No.”
“What happens now?”
Roman’s gray eyes became frighteningly still.
“Now the men who buried me learn what your dog dug out of that grave.”
May you like
He paused.
“And they come back with more than six men.”
