Chapter 2 - THE QUESTION NO ONE HAD ASKED
Sadie raised her eyes.
It was harder than it should have been.
Carl had taught her that looking directly at an angry man was disrespectful. Looking away was also disrespectful. The correct answer depended entirely on what he needed as an excuse.
Ronan Hayes did not look angry.
That frightened her more.
His eyes moved over the fading concealer beneath her cheekbone, then dropped briefly toward the way she guarded her left side.
“Who did that?”
Sadie’s throat tightened.
“I fell.”
Leo shifted in his chair.
Nobody laughed.
Ronan leaned back.
“Try again.”
“I slipped in my kitchen.”
“What did you land on?”
Sadie stared.
“What?”
“You have bruising on your cheek, probably your ribs, and you reacted to Leo raising his hand before he touched anyone. So what exactly did you fall on?”
Her mouth went dry.
“A cabinet.”
Ronan looked at her for several seconds.
Then he turned toward Leo.
“Leave.”
Leo blinked. “Boss?”
“All of you.”
The men stood immediately.
Sadie's pulse accelerated.
Being alone with Ronan Hayes seemed like an objectively terrible idea.
She stepped backward.
“I should get Thomas.”
“No.”
The door closed behind the others.
Ronan remained seated.
That surprised her.
Carl always stood when he wanted someone frightened. He used his height like another weapon.
Ronan seemed deliberately determined not to.
“What’s your name?”
“Sadie.”
“Last name.”
“Bennett.”
“How long has he been hitting you, Sadie Bennett?”
Her face went numb.
Nobody had ever said it that plainly.
Not What happened?
Not Are things okay at home?
Not Did you fall?
He had skipped the polite lie.
She gripped the tray.
“You’re mistaken.”
Ronan glanced at her hands.
“Maybe.”
He reached slowly inside his jacket.
Sadie stiffened.
He stopped.
“Phone.”
He removed it carefully and placed it on the table.
“I can have a doctor here in fifteen minutes.”
“No.”
“A woman.”
“No doctors.”
“Hospital?”
“No.”
“Police?”
The laugh escaped before she could stop it.
It contained no humor.
Ronan's expression changed.
Barely.
But enough.
“No police,” Sadie whispered.
“Why?”
“Because Carl is a cop.”
For the first time, Ronan Hayes looked surprised.
Not frightened.
Interested.
“What precinct?”
She shook her head.
“I need to work.”
“You need medical attention.”
“I need my job.”
“You have it.”
“You don't employ me.”
“I own the building.”
Sadie stared at him.
Ronan glanced toward the expensive scotch soaking into the tablecloth.
“And apparently the whiskey you just murdered.”
A tiny sound escaped her.
Half breath.
Half laugh.
Sadie looked horrified that she had made it.
Something warmer appeared in Ronan's eyes before disappearing.
He pushed a clean glass of water toward her.
“Sit down.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“My ribs.”
The warmth vanished.
Ronan's hand tightened around his pen.
“How bad?”
“I don't know.”
“When?”
She looked away.
“Three this morning.”
“Did he kick you?”
Silence.
That was answer enough.
Ronan stood.
Sadie recoiled automatically.
He stopped immediately.
The reaction seemed to affect him more than the bruise had.
He stepped backward.
“I'm not going to touch you.”
Something in his voice made her look at him.
Not softness.
A promise.
His phone vibrated.
Ronan checked the screen.
Then his face hardened.
“What?”
Sadie whispered it without intending to.
Ronan looked at her.
“Someone is downstairs asking for you.”
Her blood turned cold.
“No.”
“He showed a badge.”
Sadie's fingers went numb.
Carl.
Of course.
He had called six times during her shift.
She had ignored him.
“He can't see me here.”
“He won't.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand that he walked into my building.”
“He's police.”
“And?”
Sadie stared at him.
People were supposed to care about badges.
Ronan apparently considered them decorative.
She grabbed her purse from beneath the service cabinet.
“I need to go through the kitchen.”
Ronan moved between her and the door.
He stayed several feet away.
“If you leave alone, he follows you home.”
“If I don't leave, he'll get angrier.”
“Sadie.”
She stopped.
“That sentence is the problem.”
Her eyes burned.
She hated him for saying it.
Because she knew.
Of course she knew.
She had spent two years knowing.
Knowing and leaving were different things.
“I have money saved,” she said quietly. “Almost enough.”
“For what?”
“A bus ticket. A room somewhere. Food until I find work.”
“How much?”
“That's none of your business.”
“How much?”
“Two thousand.”
Ronan stared at her as if she had just said twenty dollars.
“I have eighteen hundred.”
“And you're getting beaten half to death waiting for another two hundred?”
“I don't want your money.”
“I didn't offer it.”
She blinked.
Ronan walked toward the door.
“I’m offering you a door.”
He opened it.
A woman in a black suit waited outside.
Late forties. Silver threaded through dark hair. Calm eyes.
“This is Mara Quinn,” Ronan said. “She runs security for my residences. She'll take you somewhere Carl doesn't know exists.”
Sadie didn't move.
“Why?”
Ronan's expression became unreadable.
“Because twenty-three years ago, my mother told everyone she fell down the stairs.”
The room became very quiet.
“She stayed,” Ronan continued. “Until one night she couldn't leave anymore.”
Sadie understood.
No explanation was necessary.
Ronan opened the door wider.
“You can walk out the front entrance and go with Carl. I won't stop you.”
She stared at the hallway.
Freedom was ten feet away.
So was terror.
“What happens if I go with her?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You sleep somewhere safe.”
“And tomorrow?”
“You decide tomorrow.”
Sadie's eyes filled.
No one had given her tomorrow in a very long time.
She stepped toward Mara.
Then stopped.
“My envelope.”
Ronan frowned.
“The money. It's in my apartment.”
“Forget it.”
“No.”
Her voice suddenly sharpened.
“That money is mine.”
Ronan studied her.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
He looked at Mara.
“Get it.”
Sadie caught her arm.
“No. Carl could be there.”
Mara smiled faintly.
“That's why I'm going instead of you.”
Ronan's phone buzzed again.
He answered.
“Yes?”
He listened.
His eyes slowly moved toward Sadie.
“What did he say?”
Ronan ended the call.
“Carl isn't downstairs anymore.”
Relief lasted less than a second.
“Where is he?”
Ronan looked toward the closed doors.
“He left after making a phone call.”
Sadie's stomach dropped.
“To who?”
“We don't know.”
Then Ronan's second phone rang.
Not the one on the table.
Another one.
He removed it from inside his jacket and looked at the number.
His entire expression changed.
Mara noticed.
“Ronan?”
He answered.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Then a man's distorted voice came through loudly enough for Sadie to hear.
“You should've let the girl go home, Hayes.”
The call ended.
Sadie stared at Ronan.
Ronan stared at the dead phone.
Carl Jenkins wasn't merely an abusive cop.
May you like
Somehow, impossibly, he already knew Ronan Hayes had protected her.
And that meant Carl had been watching far more than Sadie.
