Chapter 2 - THE NAME IN THE DARK
Cookie's throat moved.
The sound that came out was rough, broken, almost swallowed by the shape of his mouth.
But Mia heard it.
So did Mr. Doyle.
"Vescari."
The hallway seemed to lose every bit of air.
Mr. Doyle's face changed first.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
His hand dropped from the doorframe so quickly that the sleeve he'd pushed up slid halfway over his wrist, but Mia had already seen what was there.
A tattoo.
Small. Black. Faded.
A wolf's head.
The same wolf stamped into the silver medallion around Cookie's neck.
Mr. Doyle stared over Mia's shoulder.
Cookie stood in the middle of the apartment, head lowered, black fur raised along his spine.
Five minutes earlier, he had been bleeding into Mia's towel.
Now he looked like something that had remembered how to kill.
"Doyle?" Mia whispered.
The landlord didn't answer.
Cookie took one slow step forward.
Mr. Doyle backed away.
That frightened Mia more than anything else.
Mr. Doyle was six feet tall, built like an old boxer, and had once broken a tenant's television because the man was two months late on rent.
He wasn't afraid of anyone.
Yet his face had gone gray.
"No," he whispered.
Cookie's lips peeled back from his teeth.
Mr. Doyle shook his head.
"No. That's impossible."
Mia planted herself between them.
"What's impossible?"
Doyle finally looked at her.
"You don't know what you brought into this building."
"He's a dog."
"No."
The word came too quickly.
Mia frowned.
Cookie's breathing changed.
Heavy.
Controlled.
Watching.
Doyle looked at him again and whispered something Mia barely caught.
"Boss?"
Cookie lunged.
Doyle slammed backward into the opposite wall.
Mia grabbed Cookie around the neck before he reached him.
"Cookie! Stop!"
The dog froze.
Not because she could physically restrain him.
She couldn't.
He outweighed her by at least twenty pounds.
He stopped because she had told him to.
Doyle noticed.
His terrified expression shifted toward Mia.
"What did you do?"
"Fed him half my dinner and cleaned his wounds."
"No. What did you do to make him listen to you?"
Mia stared.
"Maybe don't treat everything alive like garbage."
A sound escaped Doyle.
It almost resembled a laugh.
Almost.
Then footsteps echoed from the stairwell below.
More than one person.
Doyle's expression hardened.
Mia saw the change happen.
Fear disappeared.
Calculation replaced it.
He reached into his coat.
Cookie moved before Mia understood why.
His shoulder struck her legs, knocking her sideways.
A gun appeared in Doyle's hand.
The first shot exploded through the apartment.
Mia screamed.
The bullet buried itself in the wall where Cookie's head had been.
Cookie hit Doyle.
Both crashed into the hallway.
The gun skidded across the floor.
"Damn it!" Doyle shouted.
Cookie's jaws closed around Doyle's forearm.
Not deep.
Not yet.
A warning.
Doyle screamed anyway.
The footsteps below became a stampede.
"Third floor!" someone yelled.
Mia's brain finally caught up.
People were coming.
Armed people.
For Cookie.
Or for her.
She grabbed Doyle's gun.
Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped it.
Cookie released him.
Doyle scrambled toward the stairs.
"Get out!" Mia shouted.
He stared at the gun in her hands.
Then at Cookie.
Something ugly twisted his mouth.
"You think he's protecting you?"
Cookie growled.
Doyle backed toward the staircase.
"You have no idea what he is."
"Then tell me."
"Ask him how many people he buried."
Mia's stomach tightened.
"Ask him why half the city used to lower its voice when somebody said Roman Vescari's name."
Cookie became perfectly still.
Roman.
The name struck something.
Not in Mia.
In him.
His head lifted.
Doyle smiled despite the blood running down his wrist.
"That's right."
Mia looked at Cookie.
"Roman?"
His eyes met hers.
And suddenly she remembered every strange thing.
How he listened.
How he understood numbers.
How he reacted to words rather than tone.
How insulted he had looked at cheap dog food.
How his eyes sometimes held something almost unbearably human.
Doyle's smile widened.
"Roman Vescari died eight months ago."
The men reached the second-floor landing.
Doyle glanced down.
Then back at Mia.
"At least that's what his brother paid a lot of people to believe."
Cookie charged again.
Doyle fled down the stairs.
"She's got him!" he shouted. "The girl has Vescari!"
Mia didn't wait.
She slammed the apartment door.
Locked it.
Then shoved the cheap kitchen table against it.
Cookie paced once, nose working.
"Roman."
He stopped.
Mia could barely hear her own voice over her heartbeat.
"Is that your name?"
Cookie stared.
One slow blink.
Her mouth went dry.
"Are you understanding me?"
He blinked again.
"One blink yes. Two no."
Cookie blinked once.
Mia backed against the wall.
"No."
He lowered his head.
"You're a dog."
Two blinks.
The pounding started.
"Mia!" Doyle shouted. "Open the door!"
Her gaze remained locked on Cookie.
"You're Roman Vescari?"
One blink.
She laughed.
It came out broken.
"This isn't funny."
The door shook.
"Mia!"
She raised the gun.
Cookie's ears went forward.
"You're telling me you're a human being?"
One blink.
Mia's hand went over her mouth.
The doorframe cracked.
Cookie turned toward the window.
Third floor.
Fire escape.
He looked back at her.
"No."
He went to the window.
"Absolutely not."
He pawed at it.
Another crash hit the door.
Wood splintered.
Mia looked from Cookie to the window.
"You expect me to climb three floors down a rusted fire escape with a hundred-pound dog?"
Cookie stared.
"Fine. A hundred-and-whatever-pound former mafia boss dog."
The door cracked again.
Mia yanked open the window.
Cold air flooded the room.
Cookie jumped onto the fire escape first.
She followed.
The second her shoes hit wet metal, the apartment door burst inward.
"She's outside!"
Cookie started down.
Mia followed.
Halfway to the second floor, a man leaned through her window.
"There!"
A gunshot rang out.
Metal sparked inches from Mia's hand.
She slipped.
For one horrible second there was nothing under her feet.
Cookie spun.
His jaws caught the sleeve of her jacket.
The fabric stretched.
Mia slammed against the ladder.
"God!"
Cookie held on until she found footing.
A second bullet hit the brick.
They reached the alley.
Cookie took off.
Mia ran after him.
They crossed two streets, cut through a parking lot and ducked behind an abandoned market.
Mia had no idea where he was going.
Apparently he did.
"Roman!"
He slowed enough for her to catch up.
"This would be a great time to remember that I'm not a dog!"
His ears tilted.
"You know what I mean."
Headlights swept across the alley.
Cookie shoved his body into her knees.
They slipped behind a dumpster as a black sedan rolled past.
Mia pressed both hands over her mouth.
Cookie's heartbeat hammered against her leg.
For ten seconds neither moved.
Then the sedan passed.
A voice came from behind them.
"Roman?"
Mia spun with Doyle's gun raised.
A man stood beneath the back awning.
Mid-forties.
Tall.
Gray beginning at his temples.
Dark wool coat.
His hands were visible.
Empty.
Cookie stepped in front of Mia.
The stranger's eyes filled.
"I thought you were dead."
Cookie didn't move.
The man swallowed.
"I searched for seven months."
Cookie growled.
"Yeah," the man whispered. "I deserve that."
Mia kept the gun pointed.
"Who are you?"
The stranger looked at her.
"Tomas Bell."
"That means nothing to me."
"It means something to him."
Cookie's ears remained flat.
Tomas looked toward the street.
"We have maybe three minutes before Doyle tells Matteo exactly where Roman has been hiding."
Mia frowned.
"Who's Matteo?"
Tomas stared at Cookie.
"His brother."
A pause.
"The man who stole his empire."
Mia tightened her grip on the weapon.
"And turned him into a dog?"
Tomas looked at her sharply.
"So he found a way to tell you."
"He said one word."
"That's more than he's managed in eight months."
Mia looked down.
Cookie—Roman—stood with rain beading across his black coat.
Eight months.
Exactly what Doyle had said.
Exactly what the title of this impossible nightmare seemed to be writing inside her head.
Tomas stepped closer.
Roman growled.
Tomas stopped.
"Boss, if I wanted you dead, I had eight months to stop looking."
Roman stared at him.
Tomas unbuttoned his coat slowly.
Beneath it was a shoulder holster.
Mia raised the gun higher.
He ignored her and reached into the inside pocket.
He removed a photograph.
Then laid it on the wet pavement between them.
A man stood in the photograph outside a courthouse.
Black suit.
Dark hair.
Hard expression.
Broad shoulders.
Gray-green eyes.
Mia stared at the face.
Then at Cookie.
The eyes were identical.
Her knees nearly failed.
"Roman Vescari," Tomas said quietly. "Forty years old. Head of the Vescari organization. Missing since December seventeenth."
Mia picked up the photograph.
There was no reasonable explanation anymore.
None.
"How?"
Tomas looked at the silver wolf medallion at Cookie's throat.
"That."
Mia touched it.
Roman flinched.
"The necklace?"
"The medallion."
"What is it?"
Tomas's face darkened.
"The reason he can't turn back."
Headlights appeared at the far end of the alley.
Two vehicles.
Fast.
Tomas swore.
"They found us."
He pulled his gun.
Mia stepped backward.
Roman positioned himself between her and the approaching cars.
Tomas looked at Mia.
"If you want answers, come with me."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't."
At least that sounded truthful.
"Then why would I?"
Tomas looked at Roman.
"Because Matteo Vescari spent eight months hunting that dog."
The first SUV stopped.
Doors opened.
Men poured out.
Tomas raised his weapon.
"And if Matteo learns Roman cares about you, he won't have to hunt Roman anymore."
Mia's blood went cold.
"He'll hunt me."
Roman turned his head.
His eyes met hers.
For the first time since she had found him bleeding in the rain, Mia saw something unmistakable there.
Not anger.
Not calculation.
Fear.
For her.
Tomas fired at the streetlight.
May you like
Darkness swallowed the alley.
"Run!"
