4. Night Terrors
four
Night Terrors
It was probably for the best that Romeo hadn’t come back to the office, at least for Grace’s personal sanity. She still did what she could to keep both halves of the top floor running smoothly for the remainder of the day, even getting started on a list of current employees worth looking into for the vacant position. As per usual, Dante left first, before the sun was down. As per usual, Grace worked until well after dark, until the building was down to a skeleton crew of either hard-working or desperate employees.
She stepped a little out of her usual and dared send Romeo a text as she was finishing up, to let him know she’d set a file of information for him in the top drawer of the assistant desk. She didn’t know what Tina’s system had been, but it was important he knew the information was there. They both knew there was no telling what demands she’d have waiting for her the next day.
Her phone beeped with an incoming text as she waited for the elevator to come and get her in the darkened hallway.
De Salvo, Romeo: Tell me you’re not still at the office.
She debated making him wait until she could tell him the answer he wanted honestly, but replying took her mind off the always-eerie feeling of standing alone in an unlit space. She knew the building was secure, knew no one else was on the entire floor, but still she could admit this was her least favorite part of the day. Even beyond dragging herself to work at five-thirty in the morning. So she texted back, making an effort to keep from letting her response seem unprofessional. Technically I am. Just closed up.
The elevator finally opened for her as her message went off, for better or worse, and Grace stepped inside. She pressed the button for the parking garage, as Romeo had done hours earlier, and she found herself rolling her lips between her teeth.
The elevators had cameras, of course. Nearly every inch of the building was covered in cameras. DSI had twenty-four-hour security. And now she couldn’t help but wonder if someone had been watching that specific camera when she and Romeo had been in the elevator before, when he’d been kind of leaning close to her the way he had. Would it have looked like he was flirting? Had he been flirting?
She nearly dropped her phone when it started ringing. The self-mortification that came with that only intensified at Romeo’s name staring up at her on the screen. She couldn’t imagine why he was calling. Was there something he needed from the office? Was that why he’d asked, and she’d totally misinterpreted? She hurried to answer, simultaneously bracing herself to ride the elevator back up. “Yes?”
“Grace. It’s after eight.” He sounded irritated.
Grace shifted her purse to easier hold her work bag with the same hand. “It is.” She paused. “Was there something you needed?”
Romeo sighed. “Do you always work this late?”
Further confused, Grace frowned. “I work until the day’s tasks are either completed or as close to completed as they’re going to get. I’m under strict orders never to work past ten.” She’d gotten a real lecture for doing that in the beginning.
It was hard to tell, but she thought Romeo might have sputtered. Just for a moment. “Have you eaten?”
“Of course.” This couldn’t be why he’d called. He was sacrificing family time. “Mr. De—”
“I’m gonna have a talk with Dante,” he said, speaking sharply. “You can’t be waking up before the fucking sun and not even leaving the office until after dark every goddamn day. It’s not healthy.”
The elevator settled jarringly to a stop and Grace nearly toppled over, so emotionally thrown off-balance that she hadn’t been prepared for the jostling. She caught herself on the banister, her work bag falling to the tiled floor just an inch shy of her toes.
“What was that? Are you all right? Fuck, it’s pitch-black outside already, is security walking you to your car?”
Grace pushed out a breath and scooped up her bag. “I’m fine. I just dropped my bag, that’s all.” She didn’t understand why he was saying any of these things. He sounded downright protective. No one had talked that way regarding her … ever. She barely stopped the elevator from closing on her and definitely didn’t feel like she’d caught her breath when she forced herself to more properly respond as she stepped out into the chilly underground garage. “Please don’t worry. I’m used to this routine, it’s not a big deal. I promise I really am fine.” She almost thanked him for his concern, but bit the words back.
Just in case she was misinterpreting.
“I love my brother,” Romeo said, “but working for him can’t be so great that you want to live there. You need boundaries.”
Grace pulled her weighted down arm closer to herself as the evening chill wafted up her skirt and into her bones. She looked around out of habit, then started straight toward her car. The garage was lit, of course, so it wasn’t like she couldn’t see. “I have boundaries. I am also very well compensated for the time I dedicate to my job, as you know.” She drew a breath and set her work bag on the trunk of her car in order to fish her keys from her purse. “I appreciate your concern, but it’s unnecessary. I have everything under control.”
He made a displeased sound. “Right. Just … don’t forget to take care of yourself, Grace. That’s important, too.”
She toggled the engine from the remote, hoping to get the heater at least engaged a little early, and went about setting her bags in the backseat. “I will remember that.”
Romeo was quiet for a second. “I’ll let you go, then. Goodnight, Grace. Get some rest.”
Why did her heart flutter like that at such simple words? She held herself still at the driver’s side door. “Goodnight…” Before she could work herself up to whisper his name like he was always pushing for, the line disconnected. A flicker of disappointment doused her inappropriate excitement, but it was for the best.
That seemed like the theme of her day, at least where Romeo was concerned.
She drove home in silence, not even bothering to turn on the radio. She checked her car with the evening valet, detoured by the mail, and rode the building’s elevator up to her twenty-first- floor apartment. The elevator stopped on the eighteenth floor, letting a male in nice-enough casual clothes step on. He was unfamiliar, but that wasn’t strange. Grace only knew, or knew of, a handful of her fellow residents—amusingly, that included another of Dante De Salvo’s employees.
The man, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, looked over at her curiously. “Workin’ late?”
She smiled tiredly. “Yep.” She did love her job, but she wasn’t so fond of chatting senselessly with strangers. Particularly in sequestered situations with limited ways out, like in an elevator. And frankly, everyone who lived in this building had money enough to be cautious. She wasn’t obscenely wealthy, but she wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck, either.
He turned to lean sideways on the wide banister, facing her wholly. “You got a guy? Or a lady, I don’t judge.”
Her smile faltered. “How is any part of my status your business?”
He whistled. “C’mon, lady. I was just thinkin’ we could have some fun if you were free.”
Grace narrowed her eyes at him as the elevator came to a stop. “I’m not available. Or interested.” She pulled her bag closer. “Have a good evening.” She half expected him to try and stop her, but she felt only his eyes on her as she slipped by and out of the confinement of the elevator.
She was locked inside her apartment less than a minute later, the alarm reset, and finally she was able to set down her armload and divest herself of her outer coat. Then it was back to routine. Unpacking what she needed for the night or needed to clean and reuse, changing into something more comfortable and allowing herself a limited stretch of time to relax before falling into bed.
Her mind returned to thoughts of Romeo as she drifted slowly to sleep, settling on the memory of his lips pressing against hers.
The ringing of her phone jerked her awake sometime later and Grace fumbled in the dark, latching onto the device before she’d even sat up. It was still late, no light whatsoever seeping in around her bedroom curtain, and panic gripped her. What sort of disaster could have unfolded that someone was actually calling at this hour?
But then she saw the name on the screen, and every scenario racing through her half-asleep brain screeched to a halt. This wasn’t a work call. It was the front desk.
Breathless with a new kind of concern, Grace brought the phone to her ear. “Hello? Sean?” It was after two in the morning, his shift would be well underway.
Something like a rasp preceded his voice, strained in a way that made it almost unfamiliar. “Ms. Mariner,” Sean said, “y-you have to … get out…”
Grace tossed her comforter aside and shifted the phone to her other ear, smacking her hand around until light pierced the room. As if a little golden glow would help her understand. “What? What are you saying? Sean, what’s going on?”
He coughed, or made a choking sound, and she almost missed another sound in the background of the call. Something she couldn’t make out. “They took—” He sucked in a distinctly wet breath. “Your key. I’m s-sorry … you have to hur—”
“Who the hell’re you talkin’ to, old man?” The voice that talked over Sean was somewhat garbled and distant, but definitely male and agitated. “On the fuckin’ phone?”
Grace opened her mouth, her heart hammering. “Sean—”
An explosion burst in her ear and she shrieked, instinctively clapping a hand over her mouth. But the line was still open and she felt too frazzled to comprehend what was happening. She felt like she could barely breathe.
Until the phone on Sean’s end seemed to jostle, rustling, and male snickering traveled through. “See you soon.” The line clicked a beat later.
Grace lowered her phone, running that nightmare-like conversation through her mind again as she attempted to catch her breath. And maybe get her ear to stop ringing. What was that?
The last voice had definitely not been Sean, but the other man. The one who’d … done something. Something she instinctively felt was bad, though she couldn’t explain why. But before that, Sean had sounded wrong. As if he were struggling, or hurt even.
Get out.
They took your key.
“See you soon.”
Grace sucked in a sharp breath, adrenaline firing through her and chasing the fog from her brain. She was afraid to think what had happened to Sean, but he’d called to warn her, possibly at great risk to himself. The other man—and at least one other—was coming for her. Specifically her.
Clutching her phone to her chest, Grace leapt to her feet and bolted from the bedroom. She lived in a nice apartment, but it didn’t exactly have a panic room. The best thing she had was a clawfoot tub that she might, if she was really lucky, be able to wedge herself behind. It seemed mildly more original than rolling under the bed, but no safer. She debated diving into her closet, but those doors didn’t lock. At least the bathroom did.
So she detoured to the living room, put her full weight behind shoving a chair in front of the door, and then sprinted to the bathroom. She didn’t turn on another light or grab more clothes, and she’d never in her life been so regretful of not at least owning a baseball bat. But it was what it was. All she had was her phone.
If someone had broken into the building, Sean would have signaled for police. Should she wait for them to show up?
Her heart thundered in her ears, louder than the noise she still didn’t want to think about, and Grace forced her not-small-enough body into the back corner somewhat behind the tub and the wall. She couldn’t duck out of sight inside the thing, anyway, so maybe with the lights off, if they looked too quickly, she’d blend in.
She really needed to call someone .
Her fingers moved on autopilot to her recent calls. She was, at best, going to be late for work. That was justification enough, right? He’d forgive her.
The line rang two times and she thought for sure she heard something at her door that she definitely shouldn’t have. Then it connected, and a voice she wasn’t expecting asked, “Grace? It’s two-thirty in the morning, why are you up?”
For a split-second, her mouth went dry. She hadn’t paid attention. She’d seen De Salvo on the screen and dialed. And she’d called Romeo.
Then her apartment alarm began blaring and tears surged behind her eyes. She only hoped he’d be able to hear her over the sudden noise. “Help,” she whispered.
Romeo was used to late-night emergencies, as much as he hated them, so his team had a standing procedure for who went where when he needed to leave in a hurry. That didn’t mean he had time to expect to be the grand savior. He was still forced to rely on the handful of men Dante had placed in Grace’s building over the past two years, and the only person who was going to be less happy about that than he already was, was Dante himself.
That was an argument Romeo could put off for the light of day, at least.
What he could not put off, for his own sanity and for the sake of every man within range of his temper, was making sure Grace was okay. He didn’t know what the fuck had happened, but he had a damn good guess who was responsible.
Which only made him more furious when Mo finally pulled to a stop in front of the building and there wasn’t a single goddamn police cruiser in sight. She lived in one of the most expensive apartment buildings in the city. A big part of that expense was the security. Why the fuck had no one called for police when shit went sideways?
Romeo ground his teeth and shoved from the car, not waiting for Mo to catch up before striding inside. No valet came to greet them, and the lobby inside was a fucking mess. Overturned furniture, bullet holes decorating one wall, and blood trail that indicated someone had taken an early shot and run for cover. Romeo moved up to the desk and scowled.
The overnight doorman, Sean something or other, was on the floor in a pool of blood. His uniform coat was too soaked for Romeo to be sure how many holes he had in him, but the big one that made him a little difficult to recognize without his nametag had probably been the kill shot. Next to his body, the man’s personal cellphone was smashed to pieces and slowly becoming encased in blood.
Romeo straightened and continued toward the elevator. “We’re gonna need a big fucking crew for this,” he said to Mo. “And wake up Mikey’s on-call team. This place has too many eyes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Romeo tuned out Mo’s quiet conversation as the elevator took them up, cocking the gun in his hand and standing off-center from the door just to be safe. Word from Aurelio was that the floor he wanted was secure, but they didn’t know how big the assault was. If he’d been thinking clearly when he’d left, he would have brought more than a four-man crew with him.
That would have required more phone calls. More time. He’d already taken too much fucking time.
The elevator went straight to the twenty-first floor, and Romeo allowed someone else to take point stepping into the hall. He and Mo followed and the rest of the men filed after. It wasn’t until they rounded the corner to Grace’s unit that the carnage became evident.
Blood and bodies on the floor, and one man who looked like he might be alive but was definitely unconscious was tied up off to the side. The only men standing were theirs.
“Sir,” one of the men Dante had placed in the building said, nodding in greeting. He indicated the survivor. “What should we do with him?”
Romeo really wanted to put a hole or ten in him was what, but that was unproductive. “Lock him down. Cristiano got in a couple hours ago, we’ll let him do his thing.” Assuming Dante didn’t have other ideas later. He moved to the door of the apartment. “Where is she?”
“Inside, sir,” the same man replied. “Aurelio’s with her.”
Romeo pushed his way into the apartment, not sure how he felt about the fact that the door was unlocked even if five of their men were on-site, and a fresh wave of fury crashed into him.
There was a toppled-over armchair barely beyond the swing of the door. Her alarm panel looked to have been shot and ripped from the wall. Books and assorted personal items like pictures and collectible trinkets were littered across the floor, shattered and stomped on. Something solid had been thrown into the television. And of course, there were more bodies. Three more men in dark sweats dotted the ground of the main space between the living and kitchen areas. Blood oozed, splattered, and dribbled damn near everywhere.
Grace herself was perched on the arm of her sofa, as far as she could get from the carnage. She had her arms wrapped around herself and visible splashes of blood stained her baby blue pajamas. Her fucking pajamas .
Her hair slid over her shoulder as she slowly turned her head toward him. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I … I think I … need a personal day…”
Romeo cursed, shoved his gun into his waistband, and stomped forward. He may have stepped on some dead fuck’s hand. He didn’t care. “No more work talk, angel.” He ripped off the coat he’d barely stopped to grab and draped it around her, then lifted her into his arms. “Let’s get you out of here, all right? Then we can talk, or you can cry, or scream, whatever you need. But this place isn’t safe.”
She gasped for breath and leaned into him, her body shaking. “I-I don’t have … I need to…”
“You don’t need to do or get anything right now.” Romeo turned. He’d glimpsed her phone still clutched in her hand, and he certainly wouldn’t deny her that. He looked to Aurelio. “Find her charger, and grab that satchel. Those things come to me. If anyone goes through her wardrobe, I’ll slit his fucking throat.”
Aurelio nodded sharply. “Yes, sir.”
Romeo gave Grace’s shoulder a squeeze. “Close your eyes, Grace. You don’t need to see any of this.” When she nodded against him, her eyes already squeezed shut, he started forward. He didn’t need to instruct the men to keep the apartment secure for the remainder of the night and there was no reason for them to linger.
The captured man was still unconscious in the hall, and he had no clue how fortunate he was that Romeo’s hands were full. If he’d known the condition of Grace and her apartment first, he’d probably have shot the fucker anyway.
No one spoke in the elevator. The men around him pretended they couldn’t hear Grace’s sniffles and gasping breaths, because his men weren’t idiots.
A nondescript van was pulling to the curb behind Romeo’s SUV as they stepped from the building. Its lights cut out immediately and Romeo was confident he knew who it was. The cleanup crew had scrambled.
Romeo waited only for Mo to pull open the back passenger door, then ducked in to set Grace on the seat. If he could have climbed inside with her in his arms, he would have. He pulled the coat fully around her, gave her knee a squeeze, and stepped back. Then he rounded to the other side without waiting, nodding as he moved to the men still unpacking from the van. It wasn’t often he was still on the scene when the cleaners arrived, but they were good at what they did. That meant knowing not to interrupt him with pointless questions.
Romeo angled into the SUV almost in synch with Mo, snapping his door shut and turning toward Grace. They were reversed from their previous seats, and for all the time he’d spent staring at this spot earlier like she owned it, now that didn’t seem to matter. What mattered was how fragile and scared she looked.
He slid closer to her and reached out, brushing some hair from her face. “Grace. Hey. Look at me, angel. You’re safe. You’re gonna be okay.”
She dragged her eyes up to his, her breathing still unsteady. She was still shaking. She still had tears dripping from her lashes. “I don’t— I don’t understand.”
He blew out a breath and lifted her back into his lap as the SUV started moving. Mo was literally the last person who would give him shit, and tonight, he didn’t fucking care. “I don’t know yet why anyone went after you,” he murmured into her hair as he tugged her up against his chest. “But I’ll get answers. I promise.”
She shifted over him, her fingers slipping past his coat and twisting in his shirt. “Did … you send the men … who ki— saved me?”
Romeo tightened one arm around her, his other hand rubbing along her outer arm in an attempt to soothe her. Dante was going to go through the roof when he woke up, but the damage was done. The alternative would still have cost him a price he hadn’t wanted to pay. “Yes. I sent those men.” He inhaled a breath of her. “Did anyone hurt you?”
“No.” Her breath shuddered out of her. “I don’t think so…” She burrowed closer to him, her hair tickling his nose. “Thank you. Thank you, Romeo.”