Chapter 1 - THE MAN BY THE DOOR
“Take my arm,” Vincent Costa ordered quietly.
Mave didn’t move.
Not because she was refusing him.
Because the stranger twenty feet away had just reached inside his jacket.
Vincent’s hand closed around hers.
“Now.”
The orchestra kept playing.
Champagne glasses clinked.
A hundred wealthy guests laughed beneath crystal chandeliers, completely unaware that Vincent Costa—the most feared crime boss in Manhattan—had suddenly put his body between his secretary and a man with a scar over his left eye.
Mave’s pulse jumped.
“Vincent—”
“Smile.”
“What?”
“Smile like I just told you something charming.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
He pulled her against his arm and turned them toward the ballroom exit.
“Walk.”
Mave forced a smile.
Three steps.
Four.
Then a champagne glass shattered behind them.
Vincent spun.
A suppressed gunshot punched into the marble pillar where Mave’s head had been seconds earlier.
People screamed.
The ballroom exploded into chaos.
“DOWN!”
Vincent threw Mave to the floor.
Tables overturned.
Guests scattered.
Another shot cracked through the music.
Vincent pulled a handgun from beneath his jacket and fired once toward the doorway.
The pale-haired stranger disappeared behind a wall of terrified donors.
Leo came running through the crowd.
“Boss!”
“Get the car!”
“He’s got shooters outside.”
“Then shoot back.”
Leo looked at Mave.
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
Vincent grabbed her wrist.
“We’re leaving.”
“What the hell is happening?”
“Not here.”
Another bullet struck a chandelier.
Glass rained down.
Vincent shoved Mave behind a banquet table and fired twice toward a service corridor.
A man in a waiter’s jacket dropped his weapon and disappeared behind the kitchen doors.
Mave stared.
“That waiter just tried to kill us.”
“No.”
Vincent’s voice turned cold.
“He tried to kill you.”
For one second, she forgot the screaming around them.
“What?”
Vincent hauled her to her feet.
“Move.”
They rushed through a side corridor.
Two of Vincent’s men appeared near the service elevator.
One held the door.
The other pressed a bloody hand to his shoulder.
Mave looked at Vincent.
“You knew that man?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
Vincent didn’t answer.
The elevator doors opened into the underground garage.
A black Maybach waited with its engine running.
Leo opened the rear door.
Vincent pushed Mave inside and climbed in after her.
“Go!”
The car shot forward.
Mave twisted around.
The garage entrance disappeared behind them.
Her hands were shaking.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Vincent stared through the rear window.
“Later.”
“No. I was just shot at.”
“I noticed.”
“That man was watching me before he pulled a gun.”
“I noticed that too.”
“Then tell me who he is.”
Vincent said nothing.
Rain hammered the windows as the Maybach entered downtown traffic.
Mave grabbed his sleeve.
“Vincent.”
His head turned.
She had worked for him for three years.
She had seen him angry.
Cold.
Violent.
She had watched grown men forget how to breathe when he walked into a room.
But she had never seen fear in his eyes.
Until now.
Vincent looked toward the rearview mirror.
A gray sedan had followed them through three turns.
Then four.
“Leo,” he said.
Leo looked back from the passenger seat.
“I see it.”
Mave’s stomach dropped.
Vincent reached beneath his jacket.
His gun came out again.
“Who is that?”
He finally looked at her.
“The man from the ballroom is Anton Voss.”
“Should that name mean something to me?”
“No.”
Vincent paused.
“But your father’s name meant something to him.”
Mave went completely still.
“My father died seventeen years ago.”
Vincent’s eyes never left hers.
“No, Mave.”
May you like
His voice was almost a whisper.
“Your father was murdered.”
