Chapter 2 - The Man at the Door
Joan noticed him only after Betty did.
The little girl’s fingers suddenly tightened around hers.
“Daddy.”
The man standing in the hospital doorway looked nothing like the terrified father Joan expected.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a dark navy suit that probably cost more than Joan made in 6 months. His head was shaved close, and dark tattoos disappeared beneath his collar and climbed over both hands.
There was dried blood on one cuff.
Two men in black suits waited behind him.
Neither entered.
The man did.
“Betty.”
One word.
But Joan heard something fracture inside it.
Betty climbed carefully from the chair, yet instead of running to him, she remained pressed against Joan’s bed.
That seemed to hurt him more than any bullet could have.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
Betty shook her head.
“Joan needs me.”
The man looked at Joan.
His expression was difficult to read.
“Apparently she needed you first.”
Joan swallowed.
“Mr. Seagull?”
Something almost resembling amusement crossed his face.
“No one has called me that in years.”
He extended his hand.
“Roman Seagull.”
Joan stared at the tattoos covering his knuckles before taking it.
His grip was surprisingly gentle.
“Thank you for saving my daughter.”
“I just happened to be there.”
“No.”
Roman’s eyes held hers.
“A restaurant full of people happened to be there.”
Joan had no answer.
A doctor entered before the silence could become uncomfortable. Joan learned she had 2 fractured ribs, a concussion, 14 stitches near her hairline, and enough bruising to keep her away from work for several weeks.
Her first thought was not gratitude.
It was rent.
“How soon can I work?”
The doctor actually laughed.
Roman did not.
“You can’t.”
“I have bills.”
“They’re handled.”
Joan turned toward him.
“Excuse me?”
Roman remained perfectly calm.
“Your hospital expenses are paid. Your lost wages will be covered.”
“No.”
His brow moved slightly.
“No?”
“I saved Betty because she was a child in danger. Not because I expected payment.”
Something changed in his face.
Perhaps respect.
Perhaps irritation.
Joan could not tell.
Before he could answer, Betty crawled carefully onto the edge of Joan’s bed.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Can Joan come home with us?”
Both adults froze.
Roman crouched beside his daughter.
“Joan has her own home.”
Betty looked at Joan.
Then she whispered, “But they know her now.”
Joan’s stomach tightened.
Roman went still.
“What did you say?”
Betty stared at her hands.
“The bad man saw her.”
Roman’s entire demeanor changed.
He was no longer simply a frightened father.
“Betty, look at me.”
She reluctantly did.
“What bad man?”
“The one behind the bar.”
Joan remembered flashes.
Broken glass.
Gunshots.
Betty screaming.
A man stepping around the end of the marble counter.
Joan remembered throwing a wine bottle.
Remembered it smashing against his face.
And then—
A voice.
Not a stranger’s voice.
“Take the girl alive.”
Joan’s breathing changed.
Roman noticed immediately.
“What do you remember?”
“I heard one of them.”
“What did he say?”
“Take the girl alive.”
Roman’s jaw hardened.
That meant the attack had not been random.
Betty had been the target.
A knock sounded.
One of Roman’s security men entered.
“Sir.”
Roman stepped into the hallway.
Joan could hear only fragments.
“…camera footage…”
“…inside access…”
Then something that chilled her.
“…waitress’s apartment.”
Roman returned less than a minute later.
“Joan, you can’t go home.”
Her heart jumped.
“What happened?”
“Someone broke into your apartment 40 minutes ago.”
She stared at him.
“My apartment?”
“They didn’t take your television. Didn’t take cash. They searched the place.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
Roman looked toward Betty.
“But I intend to find out.”
Joan suddenly remembered her landlord’s envelope, the dead phone, her tiny apartment.
That morning, her greatest fear had been eviction.
Now someone had searched the only home she had.
Roman lowered his voice.
“You protected my daughter. That made you visible to people you never wanted noticing you.”
“I can call the police.”
“You should.”
His answer surprised her.
“And until they determine who attacked the Silver Oak, you need somewhere secure.”
Joan looked toward the two guards.
“Your house?”
“Estate.”
“Of course it’s an estate.”
For the first time, Roman almost smiled.
Betty tugged Joan’s hand.
“Please.”
That single word defeated her.
By sunset, a black Cadillac SUV was carrying Joan through iron gates toward a sprawling stone mansion outside the city.
The image waiting beyond those gates made her understand how completely her life had changed.
Armed security lined the driveway.
Roman exited first.
Betty refused to release Joan’s hand.
Joan stepped onto the cobblestones wearing borrowed hospital clothes.
Then she stopped.
Beside the front steps stood a woman in her 60s.
The woman stared at Joan as though she had seen a ghost.
A porcelain cup slipped from her hand.
It shattered.
Roman turned sharply.
“Evelyn?”
The older woman ignored him.
Her eyes remained locked on Joan.
“Where did you get that necklace?”
Joan instinctively touched the tiny silver pendant beneath her collar.
“My mother gave it to me.”
The color drained from Evelyn’s face.
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“That belonged to Caroline.”
Roman froze.
Joan looked between them.
“Who’s Caroline?”
Nobody answered immediately.
May you like
Betty did.
“My mommy.”
