Chapter 2 - THE TRUTH IN THE CAR
For several seconds, Mave forgot how to speak.
Rain raced down the windows.
Traffic lights smeared across the glass.
The gray sedan remained three cars behind them.
“My father died in a car accident.”
Vincent didn’t answer.
“That’s what the police report said.”
“I know.”
“My mother identified his body.”
“I know.”
“Then what the hell are you saying?”
Vincent looked at Leo.
“Lose the sedan.”
Leo spoke to the driver.
“Take Canal. Then the tunnel.”
The Maybach changed lanes sharply.
Mave grabbed the door handle.
“Answer me.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Your father worked for my family.”
She stared at him.
“No.”
“His name was Martin Hale.”
“I know my father’s name.”
“He was an accountant.”
“He worked for an import company.”
“The import company belonged to my father.”
The words hit harder than the gunshots had.
Mave slowly pulled her hand away from Vincent’s sleeve.
“You knew him?”
“I was nineteen.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Yes.”
Vincent looked directly at her.
“I knew him.”
Her mouth went dry.
Three years.
Three years she had managed Vincent’s schedule.
Balanced his legitimate books.
Handled his warehouses.
Protected him from reporters, politicians, angry contractors, and people who called at two in the morning without giving their names.
Three years sitting ten feet outside his office.
And he had known her father.
“You hired me because of him.”
Vincent said nothing.
Her anger came instantly.
“You son of a bitch.”
“Mave.”
“You knew who I was before I walked into that interview.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“No.”
She laughed once.
It was sharp and ugly.
“Unbelievable.”
The Maybach swerved.
Leo turned.
“They’re gaining.”
The gray sedan cut through traffic behind them.
Vincent leaned forward.
“Take the next right.”
“That leads toward the bridge.”
“I know.”
Mave stared at him.
“Was any part of my job real?”
“Yes.”
“Did I actually earn it?”
His expression changed.
“Every damn day.”
“You don’t get to flatter me right now.”
“I’m not.”
The driver hit the accelerator.
The sedan followed.
Vincent’s phone buzzed.
A message appeared.
He read it.
His face hardened.
“What?” Mave demanded.
He turned the screen toward Leo.
Leo cursed.
Mave leaned closer.
A photograph filled the display.
She recognized herself immediately.
It had been taken outside her apartment two nights earlier.
Underneath it were six words.
SHE HAS WHAT MARTIN STOLE.
Mave felt ice move through her chest.
“I don’t have anything.”
Vincent pocketed the phone.
“They think you do.”
“Who are they?”
“A faction inside my organization.”
“Inside?”
“Yes.”
“You have people trying to murder your own secretary?”
Vincent looked out the window.
“They aren’t my people anymore.”
The driver shouted.
“Boss!”
Headlights appeared from a side street.
A black SUV slammed directly into the Maybach.
Metal screamed.
Mave’s body snapped sideways.
Airbags exploded.
The car spun across wet pavement.
Another impact smashed them against a concrete barrier.
Then everything stopped.
For one stunned second there was only ringing in Mave’s ears.
Vincent was bleeding from his forehead.
Leo was shouting.
The driver wasn’t moving.
Then Mave saw three armed men climbing from the SUV.
Vincent grabbed her.
“Listen to me.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“When that door opens, stay behind me.”
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ve been hurt before.”
The first attacker raised a rifle.
Vincent kicked open the damaged door.
Gunfire erupted.
May you like
And from somewhere outside the car, a man shouted:
“Bring me Martin Hale’s daughter alive!”
