Chapter 5 - ADRIAN’S ENEMIES FOUND ME FIRST
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The first man entered through the front.
The second went around back.
I knew because Eleanor’s security monitor showed him disappearing into the alley.
“Basement,” she said.
I grabbed her arm.
“We need to call police.”
“I did.”
The front door opened.
Not violently.
That terrified me more.
The man simply walked inside as if he had an appointment.
He was large, maybe forty, wearing a gray suit beneath an unbuttoned overcoat.
“Mrs. Moretti.”
Eleanor stepped between us.
“She isn’t here.”
His gaze moved over her shoulder.
“That seems unlikely.”
“What do you want?”
“To have a conversation.”
“Then call my attorney,” I said.
He smiled.
“Mr. Vale expected you to be difficult.”
There was the name again.
Vale.
“Who is Mr. Vale?”
“You’ll meet him.”
“No.”
His smile disappeared.
“This isn’t an invitation.”
Eleanor reached beneath the counter.
The man drew a gun.
Everything happened too quickly.
“Don’t.”
I stepped forward.
Eleanor froze.
The man gestured toward the door.
“Come quietly and your friend stays here.”
I thought about Adrian.
Not because I wanted him.
Because for three years he had trained me for exactly this situation without calling it training.
Never allow someone to move you to a second location.
Create witnesses.
Delay.
Look for exits.
Most importantly, never assume politeness means safety.
“Okay,” I whispered.
The man relaxed slightly.
I picked up my coat.
Then I threw a jar of restoration solvent directly into his face.
He shouted.
Eleanor hit the alarm.
I ran.
Not toward the front door.
Toward the workshop.
The second man appeared from the hallway.
I grabbed a metal stool and shoved it into his knees.
He fell.
I reached the emergency exit.
Then someone caught my coat.
I screamed.
The fabric tightened against my throat.
A hand grabbed my wrist.
“Claire!”
The voice came from outside.
I knew it instantly.
Adrian.
The man behind me froze.
Adrian Moretti entered the alley like winter itself had learned to kill.
Three of his security men were behind him.
The man holding me reached for his weapon.
Adrian moved faster.
One impact.
A crack.
The weapon hit the ground.
His security team took over immediately.
I barely saw what happened next.
Adrian grabbed my shoulders.
His eyes moved across my face.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“I said no.”
His hands trembled.
I had never seen Adrian’s hands tremble.
He turned toward the men.
“Who sent you?”
Nobody answered.
The coldness in his expression frightened even me.
I touched his arm.
“Not here.”
He looked down at my hand.
Then at me.
I removed it.
Police sirens approached.
Adrian stepped back immediately.
That mattered.
Old Adrian would have told me what happened next.
He would have moved me into his car.
Taken me to a guarded property.
Decided everything.
Instead he asked, “Where do you want to go?”
I stared at him.
“Police station.”
He nodded.
“I’ll follow.”
“You’re not coming inside.”
Another pause.
“All right.”
At the station, I learned the men had fake identification.
The vehicle was stolen.
The weapon serial numbers had been removed.
Professional.
Rachel arrived within an hour.
So did a Canadian attorney associated with Moretti Holdings.
I refused to speak with him.
The police asked about Adrian’s business.
I answered carefully.
They asked about enemies.
I laughed.
“Do you have several hours?”
By midnight, Eleanor and I were allowed to leave.
Adrian waited outside.
Still.
Snow covered the shoulders of his coat.
“You’ve been standing here?”
“Yes.”
“For three hours?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His expression barely moved.
“Because you told me not to come inside.”
That answer almost broke something in me.
Almost.
Rachel touched my arm.
“I’ll give you a minute.”
I faced Adrian.
“How did you know?”
“Sofia.”
“She called you?”
“She called one of my men after she called you.”
“Why were you already in Toronto?”
He didn’t answer quickly enough.
“Adrian.”
“I arrived this morning.”
“You told me you wouldn’t come unless I asked.”
“I know.”
“So you lied.”
“Yes.”
Anger flooded through me.
“Unbelievable.”
“I didn’t come to see you.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“No. You promised.”
“My intelligence team identified a payment attempt connected to Sofia. The transfer originated from a shell company tied to Lucien Vale.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Adrian saw that.
“He controls an organization operating through Detroit and Windsor.”
“Mafia.”
“Yes.”
“Your rival.”
“Sometimes.”
“And he wants me because?”
“To get to me.”
I looked away.
There it was.
The price of marrying Adrian.
Even leaving him didn’t erase the danger.
“I came because I believed Vale might move against you,” he continued. “I stayed three blocks away. I didn’t contact you.”
“You watched me?”
“No.”
“Your men?”
“They watched the streets around the building.”
“So yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
I wanted to hate him for it.
But if Adrian had not broken his promise, I might have been inside that SUV.
That terrified me more than the lie.
“Why now?” I asked.
“Vale has avoided targeting family for years.”
“What changed?”
Adrian looked toward the police station.
“You left me.”
I frowned.
“He thinks you’re unprotected.”
“I am.”
“No.”
His response came automatically.
I glared at him.
He corrected himself.
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
“Those are different sentences.”
“I know.”
We stood in the snow.
Three years of marriage between us.
One broken vase.
One shove.
One impossible question.
Finally, Adrian said, “Come back to Chicago until this is handled.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
“Vale just tried to abduct you.”
“And I am still not going back to your house.”
His face hardened.
“Then choose somewhere else.”
“I’ll decide.”
“I can provide security.”
“I’ll decide.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
Every instinct inside Adrian screamed to control the situation.
I watched him fight every one of them.
“All right.”
I stepped closer.
“Protection does not buy forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t buy access to me.”
“I know.”
“And saving me tonight does not erase the ballroom.”
His face changed.
“I know.”
For once, I believed him.
Then a police officer opened the door behind us.
“Mrs. Moretti?”
I turned.
“We found something inside the SUV.”
“What?”
He held up an evidence bag.
Inside was a photograph.
My photograph.
Not from Chicago.
It had been taken that morning in Toronto.
May you like
On the back, written in black ink, were four words.
TELL ADRIAN THE DEBT REMAINS.
