Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO REFUSED HIS MONEY
Marco was on Josie before the sound finished echoing.
He drove her behind the counter and covered her with his body as glass rained across the diner.
Someone screamed.
Carlo shouted orders.
Ruthie crawled toward the kitchen.
Smoke rolled past the windows.
Marco lifted his head.
“Car bomb?”
“No,” Carlo called. “Trash container outside. Flash charge.”
A distraction.
Marco realized it at the same moment Josie did.
“The prisoner.”
They looked toward booth six.
Empty.
The attacker was gone.
A rear door banged.
Carlo swore and ran.
Marco stayed beside Josie.
“You okay?”
She was breathing too fast.
“Yes.”
“You're shaking.”
“I said I'm okay.”
Glass covered her hair.
Marco carefully brushed a piece from her shoulder.
Josie flinched before he touched her.
His hand stopped.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then he withdrew.
Ruthie came from the kitchen carrying a cast-iron skillet.
“Where is he?”
Marco almost smiled.
“Gone.”
“Then why do I have this?”
Josie laughed.
It came out half hysterical.
Ruthie looked at her.
“You're coming home with me.”
Marco said, “No.”
Ruthie turned.
“Excuse me?”
“He knows where she works. He may know where she lives. Your house may already be compromised.”
“My house has three locks.”
Marco stared at her.
“That's adorable.”
Ruthie lifted the skillet.
Josie stepped between them.
“Everybody stop.”
Police sirens approached.
Marco looked at Josie.
“You're coming somewhere secure.”
“I don't want to be inside your world.”
“You're already inside it.”
“Because of Saint.”
“Because you refused to leave him.”
“Same difference.”
“No.” Marco's voice softened slightly. “It isn't.”
Josie stared at him.
He was right about one thing.
Her apartment was no longer safe.
The men knew her face.
They knew her job.
Maybe they knew her name.
And now a diner full of frightened people had nearly been hurt because someone wanted whatever Saint had carried.
“All right,” she said.
Marco nodded once.
“One night.”
He didn't correct her.
That should have warned her.
Marco's home wasn't a mansion.
It was worse.
A fortress disguised as one.
The property sat north of the city behind stone walls, old trees, cameras, and a gate thick enough to stop a truck. The house itself was brick and limestone, elegant rather than flashy.
Josie stepped from the SUV.
“How many rooms?”
“Enough.”
“That means too many.”
Marco glanced at her.
“You complain when things are bad and when they're good?”
“I distrust excess.”
“I've noticed.”
Inside, a woman in her fifties approached.
“This is Elena.”
Marco said it with unusual warmth.
Elena looked Josie over.
“So you're the woman.”
Josie frowned.
“What woman?”
“The one who saved Saint.”
“Oh.”
Elena hugged her.
Josie went rigid.
Elena released her immediately.
“Sorry.”
Josie looked embarrassed.
“No. It's fine. I just—”
“You don't like surprise affection.”
“That sounds ridiculous when you say it.”
“It doesn't.”
Marco heard the exchange but said nothing.
Elena showed Josie to a guest room.
The room was bigger than Josie's apartment.
She stood in the doorway.
“No.”
Elena blinked.
“No?”
“Is there something smaller?”
Marco appeared behind them.
“Why?”
“I don't need all this.”
“It's a bed.”
“It has its own fireplace.”
“Chicago gets cold.”
“My apartment has a space heater that sparks when I turn it above two.”
Marco frowned.
“What?”
Josie realized she'd said too much.
“Nothing.”
“When did your heat stop working?”
“Last winter.”
“Your landlord hasn't repaired it?”
“Are you my housing inspector now?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Marco looked at Carlo.
Josie caught it.
“Don't.”
Marco returned his gaze to her.
“Don't what?”
“Whatever you just silently ordered him to do.”
“I didn't order anything.”
Carlo coughed.
Josie pointed at him.
“You're a terrible liar.”
Carlo looked offended.
“I've been told the opposite.”
“You're not doing anything to my landlord.”
Marco looked almost disappointed.
“Fine.”
That evening, Saint returned from surgery.
Dr. Levin brought him personally.
The dog was weak but stable.
When Saint saw Marco, his tail moved.
When he saw Josie, he tried to stand.
“Absolutely not,” Dr. Levin said.
Saint ignored him.
Josie knelt.
“You stay down.”
Saint collapsed against her.
Marco watched from several feet away.
“You really are his person now.”
Josie scratched behind the dog's ear.
“He's confused.”
“Saint is never confused.”
Dr. Levin checked his IV.
“He shouldn't have survived.”
Josie's hand stopped.
“How close?”
“Very.”
“What was the poison?”
“Anticoagulant compounds combined with a heavy sedative. Somebody wanted him weak enough to control, but alive long enough to reveal where something was.”
“The capsule,” Josie said.
Marco nodded.
Dr. Levin continued.
“And the final syringe contained enough potassium chloride to stop his heart.”
Josie went cold.
“They were going to kill him.”
“Yes.”
She looked down.
Saint rested his head against her leg.
Something inside her hardened.
“Why?”
Marco dismissed the others with a glance.
When they were alone, he sat across from her.
“Three weeks ago, a man named Daniel Reese came to me.”
“Who?”
“My accountant.”
Josie raised an eyebrow.
“You have an accountant?”
“I have several.”
“Of course you do.”
“Daniel handled legitimate businesses. Construction, restaurants, real estate.”
“Legitimate?”
Marco ignored the tone.
“He discovered money disappearing through shell companies.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-eight million dollars.”
Josie stared.
“I think I got dizzy.”
“Daniel believed someone was using my businesses to move money for other groups. More importantly, he believed police and city officials were involved.”
“And the memory card?”
“His evidence.”
“Why put it on a dog?”
“He didn't.”
Josie frowned.
Marco looked at Saint.
“Daniel was murdered two nights ago.”
The room became silent.
“Saint was with him.”
“Why?”
“Daniel came here. He was scared. Before he could speak with me, someone attacked him near the garage.”
Josie listened.
“Security footage was erased. Daniel was found dead. Saint disappeared.”
“So Daniel hid the card in the collar?”
“We think he put it inside the capsule and gave it to Saint.”
“Why would Saint take it?”
“Daniel trained with him for years. Saint understands carry commands.”
Josie looked down at the dog.
“He ran.”
“For almost nineteen hours.”
“Injured.”
“Yes.”
“And those men caught him.”
“Yes.”
“They tortured him looking for the capsule.”
Marco nodded.
“But he had already swallowed it?” Josie asked.
“No.”
She looked up.
Marco's eyes held hers.
“He kept it in his mouth.”
For nineteen hours.
Through beating.
Poisoning.
Cold.
Saint had held onto it.
Until Josie appeared.
“Why give it to me?”
Marco leaned back.
“That's what I'd like to know.”
Josie laughed softly.
“Maybe because I had turkey.”
“I don't think so.”
She rubbed Saint's ear.
“You're giving him too much credit.”
“No. You are.”
She looked at Marco.
“What does that mean?”
“Animals read people faster than we do.”
“That sounds surprisingly philosophical coming from you.”
“I've learned to trust Saint's judgment.”
“About people?”
“Especially people.”
Their eyes held for a moment.
Josie looked away first.
“I still leave tomorrow.”
Marco nodded.
Then Elena entered carrying a tray.
Soup.
Bread.
Roast chicken.
Josie's stomach betrayed her with an audible growl.
She looked mortified.
Marco pretended not to notice.
Elena did too.
“Eat.”
“I already—”
Elena raised an eyebrow.
Josie surrendered.
She ate slowly at first.
Then faster.
Halfway through the soup, she realized Marco was watching.
“What?”
“When did you eat last?”
Josie immediately became defensive.
“This morning.”
“What?”
“A sandwich.”
“You gave the sandwich to Saint.”
She hated that he remembered.
“I had some noodles yesterday.”
Marco's expression changed.
“Yesterday?”
“Don't.”
“Josie.”
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“That look.”
“What look?”
“The one where you're about to solve me with money.”
Marco leaned forward.
“What if money solves the problem?”
“It doesn't.”
“Food is literally bought with money.”
“That isn't the problem.”
“What is?”
She looked down at the bowl.
“The problem is owing people.”
Marco said nothing.
Josie's voice became quieter.
“People don't give things away. Not really. They give you a bed, then remind you it's their bed. They give you food, then tell you what you're expected to do for it. They let you call them Mom and Dad until you become inconvenient.”
Marco's expression shifted.
Josie stood.
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“Why?”
“Because it's none of your business.”
She left the room.
Marco watched her go.
Carlo entered from the hallway.
“You wanted me?”
Marco's eyes remained on the doorway.
“Her apartment.”
Carlo smiled.
“She told you not to.”
“I'm not touching the landlord.”
“What am I doing?”
“Find out whether her building is safe.”
“And if it isn't?”
Marco looked at him.
Carlo sighed.
“Right. Don't tell her.”
“Obviously.”
Before Carlo could leave, Marco's phone vibrated.
Andre.
The encryption had been partially broken.
Marco listened.
His expression hardened.
“Say that again.”
Andre repeated himself.
Marco looked toward the hallway where Josie had disappeared.
The first decrypted file wasn't financial.
It was a photograph.
A photograph taken twenty-three years earlier.
Of a young woman standing beside Daniel Reese.
On the back was a name.
May you like
Megan Brennan.
Josie's mother.
