Chapter 2 - THE PRICE OF SHELTER
Kalista woke to the sound of rain striking a basement window.
For several seconds, she did not remember where she was.
Then pain arrived.
It spread beneath her ribs in a deep, punishing wave, and her hand instinctively moved toward her side.
“Don’t.”
The voice came from the shadows.
Kalista froze.
Deari Castellano sat in a leather chair near the far wall.
His jacket was gone. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled to his forearms, revealing tattoos that disappeared beneath the fabric. A half-empty cup of coffee rested beside him.
He looked as though he had been sitting there for hours.
Kalista swallowed.
“The ledger.”
“Safe.”
“Give it back.”
Deari almost smiled.
“You broke into my club, destroyed a window, bled on a rug Leonardo has complained about six times, brought an enemy army to my door, and your first request is for the ledger?”
“Yes.”
“I admire consistency.”
She tried to sit.
Pain forced her back.
Deari stood immediately, but he stopped before touching her.
That hesitation surprised her.
Most powerful men Kalista had met assumed every object within reach belonged to them.
Including people.
“How long?”
“Sixteen hours.”
Her face changed.
“I need to leave.”
“You can barely breathe without wincing.”
“They’ll find me.”
“They already did.”
Kalista stared at him.
Deari walked to a monitor mounted on the wall and switched it on.
Security footage showed the alley outside the Cobalt Room. Two black SUVs sat beneath a streetlight.
A man stepped from one vehicle.
Kalista recognized him instantly.
Patrick Rourke.
Valdemar Long’s chief enforcer.
Even through grainy footage, the scar running from his eyebrow to his jaw was visible.
Kalista’s breathing accelerated.
“He found me.”
“No,” Deari replied. “He found me.”
The distinction was terrifying.
“What happened?”
“He requested a conversation.”
“And?”
“I declined.”
Kalista stared at him.
“You’re starting a war for a woman whose name you don’t even know.”
“I know your name.”
That silenced her.
Deari picked up a thin folder.
“Kalista O’Donnell. Thirty years old. Forensic accountant. Formerly employed by Ashford & Pierce. Your brother Thomas died seven months ago in what police classified as a robbery.”
Her eyes hardened.
“It wasn’t a robbery.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Deari placed the folder down.
“Because Thomas contacted me eleven days before he died.”
Kalista forgot the pain.
“What?”
“He wanted information about Long.”
“You knew my brother?”
“No. He knew what I was.”
Her expression sharpened.
“And what exactly are you?”
Deari looked at her for a long moment.
“The man you were desperate enough to run toward.”
Before she could answer, Leonardo entered.
His expression made the temperature in the room seem to drop.
“We have a problem.”
Deari turned.
“Which one?”
“Long sent a message.”
Leonardo placed a phone on the table and played the recording.
Valdemar’s voice filled the basement.
Smooth. Cultured. Almost pleasant.
“Deari. A thief accidentally wandered into your establishment last night. Return the woman and what she stole, and I will consider the matter closed.”
The message paused.
Then Valdemar laughed softly.
“If not, I will assume you have chosen her over peace.”
The recording ended.
Kalista looked at Deari.
“Give me to him.”
Leonardo’s eyebrows rose.
Deari’s face became still.
Kalista continued.
“He wants me. You don’t know me. Your people shouldn’t die because I broke the wrong window.”
Deari approached her bed.
“You believe surrendering yourself will prevent violence?”
“It might.”
“No.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I know Valdemar.”
“So did Thomas.”
Deari’s eyes changed.
Kalista saw it.
Guilt.
Small and almost invisible, but unmistakable.
“You’re hiding something.”
Leonardo looked at Deari.
Deari said nothing.
Kalista pushed herself upright despite the pain.
“What did my brother tell you?”
Deari’s jaw tightened.
“Thomas believed someone inside my organization was giving Long information.”
The room went silent.
“He asked me to help identify the leak.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought he was wrong.”
Kalista stared at him.
“My brother is dead because you thought he was wrong?”
Deari accepted the accusation without defending himself.
That made her angrier.
She reached for the water glass beside her and threw it.
Deari turned his head.
The glass shattered against the wall behind him.
Leonardo stepped forward.
Deari raised one hand.
“Leave us.”
“Deari—”
“Now.”
Leonardo left.
Kalista’s eyes filled, but she refused to cry.
“You could have helped him.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Then why help me?”
Deari looked toward the rain-darkened window.
“Because I have spent seven months asking myself the same question.”
Before Kalista could respond, an explosion shook the ceiling.
Dust fell from the light fixtures.
An alarm screamed.
Deari moved instantly.
He pulled a pistol from beneath his waistband and stepped between Kalista and the door.
Another explosion followed.
Closer.
Leonardo’s voice came through the intercom.
“East entrance breached!”
Deari looked at Kalista.
“Can you walk?”
“With help.”
He holstered the weapon.
Then, without warning, he lifted her carefully into his arms.
Kalista grabbed his shoulder.
“I said with help.”
“This is faster.”
Gunfire erupted upstairs.
Deari carried her toward a concealed passage.
Then Kalista noticed something on the floor.
A small metallic device lay beneath her bed.
A blinking red light pulsed against the concrete.
Her blood turned cold.
“Deari.”
He stopped.
She pointed.
“That wasn’t there before.”
Deari stared at the device.
It was not a bomb.
It was a transmitter.
Someone had planted a tracker inside the basement.
May you like
Which meant Valdemar had not discovered Kalista’s location from the broken window.
Someone inside the Cobalt Room had told him exactly where she was.
