Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Tuesday morning, Max woke up to the familiar smell of ginger and garlic wafting up from the Golden Dragon restaurant on the ground floor of his building.
He'd been living in this second-story apartment for almost three months, which, in his life, was a long time.
Dominic had offered one of his corporate apartments for the duration of his consultancy, but he didn't like sterile and modern; he preferred warm and chaotic, and his neighborhood on the edge of Chinatown was lively and diverse, with real people who he felt far more comfortable with than those who were in Dominic's orbit.
After a quick shower, he grabbed his coffee mug and headed down the narrow stairs from his second-floor apartment to the restaurant's kitchen entrance.
Stepping inside, the energy in the room did not surprise him.
It was only eight, and the restaurant wouldn't open for lunch until eleven, but the Kim family was in deep prep mode.
Mrs. Kim looked up from her knife work on a pile of scallions, her sharp gaze raking his face and body with the same critical expression she'd worn since the day he'd moved in above the restaurant.
"You look tired. You don't sleep, do you?" she asked, her accent still notable despite living in New York for the past thirty years.
"Sometimes I do."
"Not enough. You need to eat. Not just drink coffee." She gestured at his empty mug with her knife.
"Coffee's fine—"
"Coffee is not food. You are too thin. Always working, never eating."
Her husband, Mr. Kim, emerged from the walk-in cooler carrying a crate of vegetables. He nodded at Max, his weathered face creasing in what might have been a smile. "Good morning."
"Morning," he said as a teenage boy entered the kitchen, phone in hand. Peter Kim was seventeen, the youngest of the four Kim children, and like his older siblings, he either helped in the kitchen or worked deliveries for the restaurant after school. "Hey, Pete."
"What's up?" the kid said.
"Not much. You?"
"Got a calculus test first period." Peter made a face. "Can't wait to graduate so I can do what I want."
"You go to college first," Mrs. Kim said sharply, not looking up from her prep. "Then you get a good job, and, maybe after that, you do you want."
Peter rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. He'd probably had this conversation a hundred times.
"Coffee's ready," Mr. Kim said, gesturing to the industrial coffeemaker in the corner. "Help yourself, Max."
He filled his mug, then headed back upstairs.
His apartment was small—a main room that served as both living space and home office, a bedroom barely big enough for a bed, and a bathroom that had probably been renovated in the eighties.
But it was more than enough for him, and it was also off the grid, which he preferred.
He'd just set his coffee down on the kitchen table, which he also used as a desk, when there was a knock at the door.
He opened the door to Kai Porter, a forty-two-year-old brunette with sharp eyes that didn't miss a thing and a sharp mouth that sometimes got her into trouble.
They'd worked off and on together for years, and she was one of the few people in his life he could count on.
She'd quit the agency last year to take care of her mother, who had recently passed.
After Dominic had hired him, he'd hired her.
While Dominic had given him an office at his corporate headquarters along with an admin and a team of people he could use, he didn't entirely trust any of them.
He wasn't completely sure that someone in Dominic's company hadn't sold him out on his last trip abroad, so while some things he could reveal to the bigger group, he wanted to keep specific details between him and Kai until they needed to go public.
Kai entered the apartment with her laptop bag over her shoulder and a plate of steamed buns in her hand. She gave him a smile. "I was going to complain about you wanting me to come here instead of Dominic's posh offices, but Mrs. Kim flagged me down on my way up, and these smell delicious."
"They are delicious," he said as he closed the door behind her. "And what I wanted to talk to you about is better said here than in the office."
"Fine. But Mrs. Kim said I had to make sure you eat, so you don't starve to death." She set the buns down on the table. "I told her I wasn't responsible for you, but she didn't seem to care."
He went into the small kitchen and grabbed two plates. "She has a kind heart."
"She certainly cares about you." Kai took a seat at the table, and he sat down across from her, sliding a pork bun onto her plate. She picked up her fork and took a bite. "So good," she mumbled with her mouth full.
He nodded, eating the bun in a few quick bites, then chasing it down with a swig of strong coffee. "Now I feel ready to go."
"And do what, exactly?" Kai asked, with an inquiring arch of her brow.
"The trip to Tajikistan is now postponed for two more weeks because of the weather.
Which gives us a month to work on Dominic's security detail and itinerary for the groundbreaking.
That's more than enough time. In fact, if we smooth the way too soon, we'll have to do it all over again. "
"This isn't about Tajikistan. Dominic's girlfriend, Samantha Barkley, was critically injured in the café bombing yesterday."
Kai's eyes widened. "Seriously? That's terrible. Is she going to be all right?"
"It's touch and go. Dominic wants me to find out who's responsible for the bombing, and whether it's connected to him."
"He's worried someone went after her because of him?"
"Yes. At least, that's what he tells me."
"You don't believe him?"
"I'm not sure. But that's the least of my concerns.
If Samantha was targeted because of Dominic, then he could be in danger.
I need you to see what you can dig up on Samantha's cases over the past few years.
She's a federal prosecutor. There has to be some public information that can give us a potential enemy list."
"I'll do what I can using the limited resources we have. The FBI will have more access."
"I'm working on getting to share in that access."
"Working how?" she asked doubtfully.
"I'll let you know if I'm successful. At any rate, Samantha's sister has arrived from Colorado. Dominic set up a meeting with her for me this morning." He checked his watch. "I'm going to head out shortly."
"Is Dominic meeting you there?"
"No. He thinks the sister will tell me more than she would tell him."
"But Dominic is Samantha's boyfriend, or whatever you want to call him. Why would the sister hold something back from him?"
"No idea if she would, but that's what's happening this morning."
"All right."
She had a look on her face that told him she had more to say. "What?" he asked as he got to his feet. "Something on your mind?"
"I can't help feeling that this job is taking you further away from your original goal, Max."
"You're not wrong," he admitted. "But Dominic's money is going to fund that goal, and until I can get back overseas, I need to keep him happy.
I also have a vested interest in what happened to Samantha.
She asked me to meet her at the café. I was late.
I thought she'd left, so I didn't stay. It turns out she was in the restroom because someone spilled coffee on her, which I think was deliberate. "
"Now I understand. You feel guilty."
"Not necessarily guilty, but I was there. I saw the destruction, and Samantha Barkley wasn't the only one hurt. I want to know who set off that bomb and why."
"Then I'll help."
He nodded. "Great. If none of this is tied to Dominic, and it was just random, I'll back off and let the FBI do their thing, but until I know for sure, I'm all in."
"Let me know how it goes with the sister. I'll keep working on our actual work until I hear otherwise."
"Thanks."
Max headed out the door and into the January cold.
The sidewalk was already jammed with people.
The constant energy was something he loved about New York, but the density of people and buildings, and the international acclaim of the city had always made it a target.
He just hoped the bomber from the café wasn't planning another attack.
After taking a cab downtown, he walked through the Hilton lobby and took the elevator to the twenty-third floor.
The woman who opened the door was a softer version of Samantha Barkley.
Same dark hair, same bone structure, but Julia's warm brown eyes lacked Samantha's sharp intensity.
Julia wore jeans and an oversized Colorado Rockies sweatshirt, and she looked exhausted and terrified.
"Hello, I'm Max Malone. I'm a friend of Dominic Ashford."
"He told me you were coming over. He said Samantha asked you to meet her at the café. Can you tell me why?"
"Why don't you let me in, Ms. Clemons, and we'll talk?"
She stepped back and waved him inside. The room held two double beds, one covered by clothes and an open suitcase, the other untouched. A laptop sat on the desk, and tissues were scattered across the nightstand. Julia gestured toward the small table and chairs by the window.
He sat down across from her. "First, I want to say how sorry I am about what happened, and I very much hope that Samantha recovers."
"Thank you," she said, fighting back tears. "Her doctor doesn't seem very optimistic."
"Did you speak to the doctor this morning?"
"Yes. He said her chances will improve if she can survive the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."
"I don't know your sister well, but I know she's a fighter."
"I hope she can fight through this. But it's going to be a lot." Her voice broke on the last word, and Max gave her a moment to collect herself. "I'm sorry," she said. "What did you want to talk to me about?"