Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
N ola’s high heels clicked on the marble floor of the High Line Tower’s lobby. She took a moment to admire the classy décor. It was all done in a soft palette that gave her Scandinavian vibes—whites, grays, with touches of light brown. A large bronze circular artwork hung on the wall.
“Good morning, Ms. Newhouse.”
She spun and smiled at the doorman. “Hello, George.”
“Heard you’re selling one of our penthouses.”
“I sure am.”
“Head on up. Floor 35. The place has amazing views. Bet you won’t have trouble selling it.”
She winked at him. “George, I don’t have trouble selling anything.” With a wave, she headed for the elevators.
She’d had a busy morning and closed a sale on a beautifully renovated brownstone in the West Village. Yay, Nola. She pressed the elevator button.
Now she was going to look at the High Line penthouse. She wanted to make sure the staging was just right. Then she could start planning her marketing material.
She was definitely not thinking about a certain silver fox who’d turned her down.
The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, trying not to frown. Knox’s rejection still stung. She’d really liked him. Enough to shove any obstacle out of the way. But clearly, he hadn’t felt the same. He’d shaken her off easily enough once he discovered who her brother was.
She stared at her reflection in the mirrored elevator wall and pulled a face.
Chin up, Nola . At least he was honest with you . He hadn’t jerked her around.
She sighed. She’d appreciate it…eventually.
The elevator slowed and she stepped off. The corridor was lovely, with a side table topped with a vase of fresh flowers. The wood floor was a neutral pale brown, and several large round mirrors hung on the wall. She sniffed the lilies as she walked past.
As she approached the sleek door for the penthouse, she found the key card and swiped it through the door lock.
She stepped inside and did a little wiggle. This was hers to sell. Four bedrooms, four bathrooms in the heart of West Chelsea. Her most prestigious property to date.
The penthouse foyer was nice. The wood floor was laid in a parquet design. The stagers had put a long, low bench against one wall, and a shiny glass table held an elegant vase.
She set her handbag down on the bench, and opened the notes app on her phone. They needed some plants. She made a note.
She moved inside, passing the doorway to the primary suite. She caught a glimpse of the large bed, cream bedding, and lovely, modern armchairs. She’d check that out after.
When she stepped into the great room, she stopped and sucked in a breath. She didn’t take in the curved, cream couches and standing floor lamps. No, all she could see was the view.
This . This would make it a breeze to sell. Sweeping views of the Hudson and the city.
“Brilliant,” she murmured.
She took in the furniture and decorations, and tapped a few more notes into her phone. They needed some rugs. She turned toward the kitchen.
The Calacatta Gold marble of the huge island gleamed. The rest of the space was high-end appliances and custom white cabinetry. The stagers had left a tray with a sleek teapot on one corner of the island, and beside the huge stove were some pretty glass vases. She tapped on her phone and made a note to compliment whoever had done the styling.
She took another step, and that’s when the murmur of low voices caught her ear. She frowned. Men’s voices.
No one should be here. She headed past the long dining room table, which was devoid of people, but the place settings looked great. More windows offered a fabulous view of the glistening waters of the Hudson.
There was a second living area ahead. It was a flexible space that she’d asked the stagers to put a piano in. The voices got louder.
Maybe someone was here doing maintenance?
“You betrayed me, Alexei.” The accented voice rang through the penthouse.
“No. No .” The second man’s voice was panicked. “It’s all lies. I’d never betray you, Zolotov.”
Nola’s step faltered, her muscles tensing. Who the hell was in the penthouse?
She straightened her spine. They weren’t supposed to be here. She was going to kick their asses out. If they’d wrecked her staging or made a mess, there would be hell to pay. She strode to the doorway.
Her brain took a second to take in the four men in dark suits. There was a fifth man on his knees on the floor.
The older of the four men was holding a handgun aimed toward the fifth man’s head.
Bang. Bang.
Nola jolted. Shock flooded her.
Time moved in slow-motion as the man on his knees toppled sideways. There was now a hole in the center of his forehead, and… no, no, no . The blood.
Oh, God.
She must have made a sound, because suddenly, all four men turned to look at her.
Nola ran.
Shouts echoed behind her. She sprinted through the kitchen and straight for the front door, kicking her heels off as she ran.
“Stop her!” a voice boomed.
Nola saw the front door. She tore it open, raced out the penthouse, and sprinted down the corridor.
More shouts, and, when she glanced back, two of the men were running after her.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Her heart was hammering behind her ribcage. She bolted down the hallway. There was no time to wait for the elevator. She heard the penthouse door slam, but she didn’t look back.
She reached the door to the stairs and slammed through it. In the stairwell, she hiked her tight skirt up.
She was tempted to head down. To run as fast as she could and get out of the building. Far, far away from those men.
But something sparked in her brain. She swiveled and ran up the stairs instead. They’d expect her to go down.
She went up one level and pressed her back to the wall. She put a hand over her mouth to mask her heavy breathing.
She heard the door below open. Men speaking in what sounded like Russian.
They thundered down the stairs.
Nola blew out a shaky breath. She quickly slipped out through the door onto the next floor and raced to the elevator. She hit the button.
Should she go straight to the lobby? She chewed on her lip. They could have someone waiting. She’d head to level two, then find somewhere to hide and call for help.
God . She’d just seen a man get killed. A bullet to the head. She closed her eyes to escape the horrible memories, but all she saw in her mind was the blood. She pressed her palms to her cheeks and dragged in a deep breath.
The elevator arrived with a muted ding . Her pulse sped up. What if they were in it? But when the doors opened, the elevator car was empty.
She stepped inside and pressed the number two.
That was the moment when she realized her cellphone was still clutched in her hand.
Oh, God . She unlocked the screen and saw the signal in the elevator was crap. She swallowed. She’d have to wait until she got off.
Each floor the elevator moved past felt like an eternity.
She needed to call Nick. He’d help her.
The elevator dinged. It slowed, and when the doors opened, she peeked out. The corridor was empty.
Heart pounding like a drum, she stepped out onto the cool wood floor. She passed another side table, with another elegant vase of flowers. This one held soft pink dahlias and roses. She tried to calm her breathing.
A door opened. The one to the stairs. Her head jerked up.
One of the thugs from the penthouse stepped into the corridor.
He had a shaved head and his dark gaze locked on her.
Oh, shit . He advanced on her, and all she could think was that he was way taller, and way bigger than she was.
Nola took a few steps back.
He got closer. “You are coming with me.”
“I don’t think so.” She whirled, grabbed the vase of flowers, and lifted it above her head. Then she tossed it at his face. It smacked into his nose, shattering.
He staggered back, shirt and jacket soaked with water, while the flowers slapped to the floor at his feet.
Nola ran. She raced past the man, hit the stairs, and raced downward.
Her bare feet slapped on the concrete as she reached a landing, turned, and kept moving down.
She needed to get out and call Nick.
Knox exited the HT office building. The sounds and smells of New York City hit him. Honking horns, angry shouts, the beeping of a reversing truck. The air smelled like exhaust.
He was about to take a step forward when a bike messenger raced past in front of him.
He jerked back. Jesus .
“You look a little shellshocked, Stone,” Nick said from beside him.
“It’s going to take a little bit of time to adjust to New York living.” Knox shrugged. “It’s not bad, just different. It’s what I wanted.”
He’d been more than ready for a change.
“You’d had enough of the Marines?”
“I loved being a Raider.” It was a part of who he was, and always would be. “But I got older, and it was time to let the younger guys take the risks, and the hits. Busted my knee on my last mission, so I moved into training. I enjoyed it, but I knew it wasn’t something I wanted to do forever.”
The truth was that he’d felt unsettled. He’d needed something new, and he hadn’t been sure what exactly that was.
When Killian had called with a job offer, it seemed like the stars had aligned.
Nick eyed Knox’s dark jeans. “I can give you the name of my tailor.” He tugged on his jacket. “I wasn’t a fan of the suits when I first started at Sentinel, but let me tell you, when it’s tailored for you, it’s amazing.”
“I’m not going to wear a tie.”
Nick laughed. Then his phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. He frowned.
“Problem?” Knox asked.
“It’s Lainie’s assistant.” He pressed it to his ear. “This is Garrick.” Then his body stiffened. “What? Is she all right? What hospital?” Nick sucked in some fast breaths. “Okay. I’m on my way.”
“Hey.” Knox touched Nick’s shoulder. The guy looked panicked. “What’s wrong?”
“Lainie fainted at the office. She’s being taken to the hospital to get checked out.”
“All right, take a deep breath.”
Nick dragged in a breath.
“Pregnant women faint,” Knox said. “It’s not uncommon. Happened to my sister.”
“Okay. All right.” Nick still looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. “I have to check on her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The hospital’s in the opposite direction to the office.”
“I can get myself back to Sentinel. Go.”
“You sure?”
“Go see your wife, Nick.”
“Thanks, Knox.”
The man slid into his car where it was parked out front, and Knox watched him pull away.
Then he glanced down the traffic-clogged street. Guess he was going for a walk.
Nola slowly pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs. She didn’t see or hear anything. She cautiously stepped into the lobby. She couldn’t see anyone. The marble felt cold against her bare feet.
She hurried across the space, and spotted the doorman. “George, thank God.”
The older man looked up from his desk and frowned at her. “Ms. Newhouse? What—?”
“I need help. Call 9-1-1.”
The man looked alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
“There were men—”
A door slammed open behind her. She swiveled and one of the men chasing her stepped into the lobby. He had a scary scowl on his broad face.
Oh, crap.
“Is this man bothering you, Ms. Newhouse?” George asked.
The thug reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun.
Nola’s muscles tightened.
He aimed in her direction. Bang .
Nola dove to the floor. The gunshot was deafening, and the noise echoed through the lobby.
She rolled and watched as George fell to the floor, moaning. He clutched his shoulder. As he writhed, blood smeared on the marble.
Oh, no . She looked up, and every cell in her body froze. The armed man was striding toward her, the gun swinging her way.
No . She didn’t want to die.
She wanted to fall in love. A proper, all-consuming love. She wanted a baby. She wanted to sell that penthouse and get her big commission. She wanted to buy more sexy shoes.
One day, she wanted a messy house, and regular, hot sex, and to get gray hairs.
She didn’t stop to think. She launched herself upward and rammed straight into the man’s legs.
He staggered backward, his shot going wild and hitting the ceiling.
Nola straightened, then kicked her leg up, right between the man’s thick thighs. She kicked as hard as she could.
He dropped the gun, and let out a pained gurgle.
She reared back and kicked him again. This time, he doubled over.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
Panic coursed through her. She raced over to George, and dropped down beside the moaning doorman.
“Come on, George.” She helped him sit up. “We need to get out of here.” She slung an arm around his back. “Ready?”
He nodded, his face gray. As they rose, she almost staggered under his weight. The bloodstain on his white shirt was growing. She couldn’t leave him here. They’d kill him.
“We need to run,” she told him.
He nodded again, his face twisted in pain. Together, they hobbled to the front door. They got outside, and the sounds of the city hit her. A passersby gasped and cried out at the sight of the blood.
“He needs help,” Nola cried. “Someone call 9-1-1. There’s a man inside with a gun.”
A small crowd gathered. Two men took George off her. A woman nearby was already on her cellphone. Nola clasped her hands together and saw she had blood on her pretty, blue shirt.
Then she turned and looked back through the glass. The other thugs had entered the lobby.
Including the cold-eyed, older man who’d executed the man upstairs.
He met her gaze through the glass.
Fuck .
Nola whirled and ran.
She sprinted down the sidewalk, her bare feet scraping on the concrete. Ugh, the ground was so dirty.
She glanced back and saw three men spilling out of the High Line Tower. They didn’t have any guns out, but they were clearly looking for her.
She looked forward and kept running.
Two big men in dark suits appeared ahead of her and she stumbled to a panicked stop. God, were they with these murderers as well? How many more of them were out here?
As her heart thudded hard, the two men walked straight past her.
She pressed a shaky hand to her chest.
She couldn’t stay on the street. They’d be looking for her.
She glanced around, then ducked into an alley. Something crumbled beneath her bare foot, and she winced.
“Please don’t let me catch an infectious disease,” she muttered.
She spotted the hulk of a dumpster ahead, and ducked behind it.
With a shaking hand, she lifted her cellphone and pressed the button for Nick. The phone rang and rang, and tears welled in her eyes. Why wasn’t he answering?
“Come on,” she urged.
The call went to his messages.
“ No .” She blew out a breath. Then she dialed Sentinel Security.
“Hello, Sentinel Security.” It was Hex’s cheery voice.
“God, Hex, it’s Nola.”
Hex’s voice changed. “Nola, what’s wrong?”
“I tried to call Nick, but he wasn’t answering.” Her words came out in a rush. “I went to this penthouse I’m selling. There were men there. I saw one of them shoot another man in the head.” Her voice rose and she gulped. “They were Russian. Now they’re chasing me.”
Hex’s curse was low and impressive. “Okay, slow down. I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Nola.” It was Killian’s calm, deep voice. “Are you safe?”
“I don’t know. I think so. I’m hiding in an alley outside the High Line Tower.” She swallowed. “They’re searching for me.”
“Stay where you are. We’ll send someone for you.” She heard him lower his voice and talk to Hex for a second. “Wolf and Stone are closest to you. I just need you to hold on tight until they get there.”
“Okay,” she said shakily.
“Nola, you said the men were Russian?”
“Yes. The man they shot was called Alexei. The one who shot him was called Zolotov.” There was silence. Her hand squeezed the phone. “That’s not good, is it?”
“It’s not good,” Killian agreed.
“God, they’re mafia, aren’t they?”
“Just stay hidden. The guys are coming for you.”
“Thanks, Killian.”
“We’ve got you, Nola.”
She ended the call and suddenly felt so alone. She wrapped an arm around her middle, as fear tied itself like a bow around her neck. She wiped her hand over her mouth.
She didn’t really want to see Knox, but right now she didn’t care who came for her, as long as someone did.
Staying alive was more important than her pride.