Chapter 10
LEV
Istand there and watch her anger settle like armor. She perches on the edge of the sofa, hands braced on her knees. This morning made it clear how easily I could lose her. I am not going to let that happen.
“You’re moving in with me,” I tell her.
Her head snaps up, eyes blazing in the way I’ve come to expect. “No, the fuck, I’m not,” she seethes.
“That wasn’t a question, Mari,” I shoot back. “You’ve got a target on your back, and I won’t let anyone get that close to you again.”
She lets out a flat, humorless laugh. “That’s not happening,” she says. “I have an apartment. I have a lease. I have a life.”
“You won’t have a life if this asshole has his way,” I warn.
“So my options are get murdered or be your prisoner?”
“You aren’t a prisoner,” I say through clenched teeth, her petulance scraping at my control. “Most people would kill to live in a place like this. I have a private chef and a cleaner. You’ll want for nothing, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”
“We’re not even together!” she explodes. “You don’t care about me more than any other warm body in your bed. Let me go home and take my chances.”
I meet her gaze and hold it. She’s looking for something I don’t hand out. The instinct to soften rises, and I shove it down. Softness creates holes. Holes invite knives.
“This isn’t a debate,” I say. “It’s already in motion. I’m sending my men to your apartment to pack your things.”
“You’re out of your mind.” She stands. “I’m not a puppet. You can’t just take over my entire life.”
She tries to move past me toward the door. I step between her and the hall.
“Sit,” I command, but of course she doesn’t budge.
“Move!” she screams, shoving my chest as hard as she can. The word burns hot.
“You’re not hearing me,” I snap, temper slipping. “You’re mine. And I protect what’s mine.”
She goes still. My words settle between us, and I’m not sure where to start unpacking them. I don’t do feelings. I refuse to give them any breathing room.
“You’re basically kidnapping me,” she says, heat in her voice. “Do you expect me to just say thank you?”
“I expect you to stay alive. This is your best chance, and I’m not debating it another minute. I understand this world. You don’t.”
Her mouth flattens. “You think keeping me here protects me, but you’re wrong. You’re stealing my life from me.”
“I’m not stealing anything from you. Yuri grabbed your laptop. You can work from here.” I tip my head toward the office down the hall. “I’ll have my tech guy get you set up on the network.”
“There’s more to life than work,” she spits.
“My housekeeper will get your room set up for you. You’ll be very comfortable there, especially once your things arrive.”
“What happens if I say no?” she asks, desperately grasping at straws to get out of this.
“You try to leave,” I say, “and I will pick you up and bring you back. Don’t make me do it.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
She stares at me, throat tight, eyes bright with fury. The pulse at her neck hits a hard rhythm. She drops back to the sofa as if refusing to give me the satisfaction of force. It’s a victory, but it feels hollow.
“I won’t apologize for keeping you alive. You can kick and scream and act like a petulant child all you want. This is done. It’s happening.”
Her eyes flash, and she finally nods in agreement.
“I’ll have Marcus coordinate the move,” I say. “You choose what you want to take, and my guys will move it for you.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll pack my own things.”
“You’ll choose,” I say. “They’ll pack. That’s the offer.”
“Offer,” she repeats dryly. “It feels a lot like an order.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
She stands again and tests the distance between us with a single step. I don’t move. She exhales as if she just remembered an ugly truth about how the world works.
“If your men break any of my things, I’m charging you for it,” she grumbles.
“I’d expect nothing else.” I let out a wary sigh.
Yuri appears in the doorway like a ghost. He takes both of us in with a quick sweep and waits without a word.
“Watch her,” I tell him. “I’ll be ten minutes.”
He nods and slides to a spot where he can see the hall, the elevator, and the reflection in the glass. I know I can trust him to stop her if she tries to run away.
I walk back to my office. I pull out the card I’ve been carrying in my pocket the last few days, twirling it between my fingers as I take the burner phone I keep hidden in my drawer.
He answers on the second ring. “Agent Halloran.”
“It’s me,” I say, keeping my voice low.
I hear the rustle of papers and assume he’s moving to another location, as he always does when I call. Agent Halloran is my man inside the FBI. I’ve had him on the take for years, since I realized how valuable it would be to have someone keep an eye on any federal investigations.
“Are there any active or pending cases on me or Levcon?” I ask when I hear him settle. “Has anyone authorized interviews with my staff in the last seven days?”
There’s the sound of typing, and I wait while he searches his screen.
“No active Title Three,” he says slowly. “No probable cause orders. No field interviews scheduled for your domains.” He pauses. “There was a routine analytics sweep on the corporate side, but it passed last quarter without any red flags.”
That doesn’t make sense. A federal agent visited Mari. I have his fucking card in my hand right now.
“Can you run a name?” I ask. “Agent Graham Cole in the Manhattan office.”
“Not in my house,” he answers quickly, then there’s the sound of more typing. “There’s a Cole in Los Angeles on retirement counseling. No one here is using that name.”
“The card says Manhattan,” I say.
“Give me the phone number.”
I do.
He snorts. “That’s a public line. Nobody who calls that number is getting through to a human.”
“So no one is gathering intel on me?” I ask, as unease settles in my gut.
“Only your usual admirers,” he says. “Want me to pull anything?”
“No.” My voice stays flat. “Call me if a field office blinks in my direction.”
“You’ll get notice before a judge sees a form.”
I end the call and set the phone down. I pick up the card and turn it between my fingers.
It’s a good forgery, I’ll give him that.
It had me properly fooled, but now I realize that the stock is too glossy.
The eagle’s eye is dead. The hotline uses hyphens, which federal printers avoid.
The microline along the bottom is missing.
I’m angry at myself for falling for this in the first place.
If it isn’t the Bureau, then Mari was targeted before this morning.
I think about the photo at the gate. I think about the hit on Delancey. Once again, I’m forced to wonder if this is all part of the same attack. It’s too much of a coincidence not to be. It’s all happened in such tight succession.
Suddenly, I’m wary of everyone in my circle. Who can I trust with this?
I text Yuri, because he truly is the only person I can be sure won’t betray me.
Pull video logs of the property from last night. Include the ridge line and the road. If a toy helicopter flew over my trees, I want the time it launched and the place it landed.
He replies with a single dot, his code for moving.
I text Marcus.
Two teams to her building in twenty. She chooses. They pack. Change locks by nightfall. No one touches her floor without my say.
Understood, boss.
Yet another fucking problem. This man, whoever he is, went to Mari’s apartment. Her roommate let him in. Now I’ll need to keep her safe as well.