Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO REMEMBERED NOTHING
George Kessler grabbed Emma Lawson's wrist hard enough to make her gasp.
"Are you blind?"
The dining room fell silent.
Water dripped from the edge of the tablecloth onto the polished floor. Emma could feel the silver hawk ring digging into her skin as George tightened his grip.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'll get a towel."
"You'll get a towel?" George repeated, his voice rising. "This suit costs more than you make in six months."
Emma tried to pull away.
He held on.
"Perhaps I should send the cleaning bill to your father."
The words struck harder than his fingers.
"My father's dead," Emma said quietly.
George's expression changed.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Emma saw it.
Recognition.
Then something uglier.
"Well," he said, "I suppose that explains the manners."
A chair scraped against the floor.
"Let her go."
Adrian Vale had not raised his voice.
He didn't need to.
George turned toward him.
"Adrian, we're having a little misunderstanding."
"No."
Adrian stood.
"You're hurting her."
George laughed nervously.
"Since when do you care about waitresses?"
Adrian looked at the hand around Emma's wrist.
"Since you forgot how to behave like a man."
George released her.
Emma stepped backward, holding her wrist against her stomach.
Adrian's eyes followed the movement.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"That's not what I asked."
She met his gaze.
For the first time, Emma understood why dangerous men feared Adrian Vale.
There was no anger in his expression.
Only a frightening kind of patience.
"I'm fine," she answered.
Adrian looked at George.
"Apologize."
George stared.
"You can't be serious."
"Try me."
The older man swallowed.
"My apologies, miss."
Emma nodded stiffly.
"I'll bring fresh water."
She turned toward the door.
"Emma."
Adrian's voice stopped her.
"Don't come back into this room tonight."
Her stomach tightened.
She needed the money.
She needed the job.
"Mr. Vale, I can—"
"You've done enough."
The dismissal stung.
Emma walked out with her shoulders straight, refusing to give George the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Daniel was waiting in the service corridor.
"What happened?"
"Apparently, I committed a felony against an expensive sleeve."
Daniel didn't smile.
He looked at her wrist.
Then at the closed dining-room doors.
"Go home."
"Daniel—"
"You're getting paid for the whole shift."
Something about his expression frightened her.
"What's going on?"
He glanced over his shoulder.
"Please, Emma. Just go."
She changed in the staff locker room and left through the rear entrance.
The October air was cold enough to sting her cheeks.
She had walked half a block when a black sedan rolled slowly beside her.
Emma stopped.
The rear window lowered.
Adrian Vale sat inside.
"Get in."
She almost laughed.
"No, thank you."
"Someone followed you out of the restaurant."
Emma glanced behind her.
A man in a gray coat stood beneath a streetlight, pretending to check his phone.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
"Who is he?"
"That's what I'd like to know."
"Maybe he's waiting for a ride."
"Then he won't mind us leaving."
Emma looked at the sedan.
Every instinct told her not to climb into a stranger's car.
Especially this stranger's car.
"Why would you help me?"
Adrian studied her.
"Because George doesn't frighten easily."
"And?"
"Tonight, you frightened him."
Emma froze.
"I spilled water."
"No."
Adrian's gaze sharpened.
"You looked at his ring."
The man in the gray coat started walking toward them.
Adrian opened the door.
"Emma. Now."
She got inside.
The sedan pulled away before she had fastened her seat belt.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Chicago passed outside in streaks of amber streetlights and wet pavement.
Finally, Adrian asked, "Where did you see that ring before?"
Emma stared at him.
"I didn't."
"You're a terrible liar."
"And you're very comfortable giving orders."
Something flickered across his face.
Amusement.
Then it vanished.
"George Kessler has worked for my family for thirty years," Adrian said. "He's a man who can sit through a federal investigation without changing his pulse."
"Congratulations to him."
"Tonight, a waitress looked at his ring, and he lost control."
Emma turned toward the window.
Adrian continued.
"Tell me why."
She thought about her father's notebook.
The police photographs.
Her mother's warnings.
The seventeen-year-old boy with green eyes.
Then she made a decision.
"Because I think I've seen that ring in an old photograph."
"What photograph?"
"One that belonged to my father."
Adrian waited.
Emma swallowed.
"He was a paramedic."
Something shifted in Adrian's expression.
"What was his name?"
She wasn't ready.
Not yet.
"Why does it matter?"
"Because I remember a paramedic."
Her breath caught.
Adrian looked down at his hands.
"I was seventeen. There was a garage. Blood everywhere."
His jaw tightened.
"I don't remember his face."
Emma's throat burned.
"Do you remember what he said?"
Adrian closed his eyes.
"Something about waiting."
Emma nearly told him everything.
Then his phone rang.
The name on the screen was George Kessler.
Adrian answered.
"What?"
A pause.
His face hardened.
"When?"
Another pause.
"Keep everyone away from the building."
He ended the call.
"What happened?" Emma asked.
Adrian looked at her.
"The restaurant manager who told you to go home."
"Daniel?"
"He's missing."
Emma's blood went cold.
Adrian's phone vibrated again.
This time, a photograph appeared.
Daniel Brooks sat tied to a chair, blood running from his temple.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
BRING THE LAWSON GIRL. OR THE MANAGER DIES.
May you like
Adrian slowly turned the screen toward Emma.
"Now," he said, "I think you'd better tell me your father's name."
