Chapter 2 - Three Seconds Before the Gunshot“Your check, Mr. Moretti.”
Chloe heard herself say the words.
Somehow, her voice sounded normal.
Dominic Moretti looked up.
For one terrible second, he did not reach for the black leather presenter.
Chloe stood beside the booth holding it with both hands because one hand alone would have revealed how badly she was shaking.
Ten feet behind Dominic, the man in the olive-green jacket was watching her.
She could feel him.
Dominic finally reached for the check.
Their fingers nearly touched.
“Thank you, Chloe.”
She nodded.
Then she walked away.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Do not run.
Four.
Do not look back.
Five.
Her heart was beating so violently she could hear blood rushing in her ears.
At the dessert station, Chloe picked up a stack of plates she did not need and stared at them because she could not make herself turn around.
Nothing happened.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Maybe Dominic had not read it.
Maybe the pen had failed completely.
Maybe—
A chair scraped.
Chloe looked up.
Dominic was reaching for his wine.
Completely relaxed.
The gunman’s hand moved beneath the table.
Chloe’s stomach dropped.
Then Dominic knocked the wineglass over.
It happened so casually that half the room barely noticed.
Red wine spilled across the white tablecloth.
Dominic stood.
“Leo.”
One word.
Leo turned.
The gunman moved.
Dominic dropped.
The first shot sounded nothing like Chloe expected.
Not a cinematic explosion.
A hard, ugly pop.
Glass shattered behind Dominic.
Someone screamed.
Then the restaurant became chaos.
Leo crossed the room with terrifying speed.
The gunman fired again.
A waiter dropped a tray.
People dove beneath tables.
Chloe stood frozen beside the dessert station until Sarah slammed into her.
“DOWN!”
They hit the floor together.
Another shot.
Then two louder ones.
Then silence.
Not real silence.
People crying.
Someone yelling for 911.
Broken glass settling across hardwood.
Chloe raised her head.
The man in the green jacket lay near his table.
Blood spread beneath him.
Leo stood several feet away with a pistol pointed down.
Dominic was alive.
He was crouched beside his booth, one hand inside his jacket.
His eyes moved through the room.
Then found Chloe.
Everything else seemed to disappear.
She stared at him.
He stared back.
And Chloe knew immediately that her life had changed.
Police arrived in less than six minutes.
Dominic was gone in four.
That confused Chloe.
One moment he was there.
The next, Leo had moved him through the kitchen and out a rear exit before the first cruiser reached Beacon Hill.
The gunman was still breathing.
Barely.
Paramedics carried him out.
Then came questions.
So many questions.
Detective Ellen Walsh sat across from Chloe at a table near the bar.
“What did you see?”
Chloe’s hands remained wrapped around untouched coffee.
“A gun.”
“When?”
“Before he fired.”
“How long before?”
“Maybe thirty seconds.”
“And you warned Mr. Moretti?”
Chloe looked toward the corner booth.
The check presenter was gone.
“I gave him his check.”
Walsh studied her.
“Was there something written on it?”
Chloe hesitated.
“Why?”
“Mr. Callahan says Moretti hadn’t asked for the bill.”
Chloe’s stomach tightened.
“I thought he had.”
“Chloe.”
The detective leaned forward.
“Dominic Moretti is not someone you want to lie for.”
“I’m not lying for him.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
Chloe looked toward the rain-dark windows.
“I saw the gun. I wrote a warning.”
“What exactly?”
“Gunman behind you.”
Walsh sat back.
Something changed in her face.
“You understand the shooter saw you approach Moretti.”
Chloe had been trying not to understand that.
“Yes.”
“He may survive.”
Chloe’s fingers tightened.
“Okay.”
“And if he wasn’t working alone, other people may now know you’re the reason Dominic Moretti is alive.”
Cold traveled down Chloe’s spine.
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“I’m trying to make sure you understand your situation.”
“I’m a waitress.”
“Tonight you became a witness.”
Chloe looked down.
That was worse.
At 1:43 a.m., police finally released the staff.
Mr. Callahan offered to pay for a cab.
Chloe declined.
She wanted air.
She wanted to walk.
She wanted fifteen minutes in which nobody asked her about guns or Dominic Moretti.
Beacon Hill was wet and almost empty.
Chloe pulled her coat tighter and walked toward Charles Street.
Her phone had seventeen notifications.
Three from coworkers.
Two from an unknown reporter.
Four from her landlord about late rent.
The rest were automated medical-billing messages.
Reality had apparently decided to continue.
She laughed once.
It came out dangerously close to crying.
Her mother had been dead ninety-three days.
Ninety-three.
Chloe still occasionally opened her contacts and almost called her.
Tonight she wanted to more than ever.
Mom, I watched someone try to kill a man.
Mom, I saved him.
Mom, I think that was a mistake.
A black SUV slowed beside the curb.
Chloe stopped.
Every nerve in her body screamed.
The rear window lowered.
Leo Marchetti looked out.
“Get in.”
Chloe backed away.
“No.”
“Miss Bennett.”
“Absolutely not.”
Leo looked almost surprised.
“Mr. Moretti needs to speak with you.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Tell Mr. Moretti I have work tomorrow.”
“The restaurant is closed tomorrow.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there are bullet holes in it.”
Fair point.
Still no.
“I’m going home.”
Leo’s expression changed.
“That's exactly why you need to get in.”
Chloe’s fear returned.
“What does that mean?”
He opened the door and stepped out.
Chloe moved backward.
Leo stopped immediately.
“Someone followed you from the restaurant.”
Her heart stopped.
“What?”
“Gray sedan. Two men.”
Chloe turned instinctively.
At the far end of the block, headlights appeared.
A gray sedan.
Slow.
Leo opened the SUV door.
“Now.”
This time Chloe got in.
The SUV accelerated before the door fully closed.
Chloe twisted around.
The gray sedan followed.
“Who are they?”
“We don’t know.”
“You have a gun?”
Leo looked at her.
She immediately regretted the question.
“Stupid question.”
“Yes.”
“Are we going to the police?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t know who in the department knew the shooter would be at The Brass Lantern.”
Chloe stared.
“You think cops are involved?”
“I think somebody knew Mr. Moretti would have only one man with him tonight.”
The implication settled slowly.
Dominic’s routine had been compromised.
Someone knew where he would sit.
When he would arrive.
How much security he would bring.
This had been planned.
The SUV turned sharply.
The gray sedan followed.
Leo touched an earpiece.
“We have company.”
A voice answered.
Chloe recognized it.
Dominic.
“Bring her here.”
Her head snapped toward Leo.
“He’s listening?”
Leo did not answer.
“Dominic!”
Silence.
Then his voice came through the vehicle speakers.
“Chloe.”
Hearing her name made everything more frightening.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“I have an apartment.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“You cannot go home.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
A pause.
Then:
“You’re right.”
She had not expected that.
Dominic continued.
“But the men behind us may already know your address.”
Chloe went cold.
“How?”
“They know your name.”
“How?”
“Restaurant employment records. Social media. License plate. There are many ways.”
Chloe hated how calmly he said it.
“Then take me to a hotel.”
“They can find that too.”
“A police station.”
“Possibly compromised.”
“So what exactly are my choices?”
Dominic went silent.
Chloe looked through the rear window.
The gray sedan was closer.
Leo accelerated.
Dominic finally answered.
“Tonight? Very few.”
Twenty minutes later, they entered an underground garage beneath a waterfront building.
Chloe did not know where they were.
The elevator opened directly into a penthouse.
Dominic stood near enormous windows overlooking Boston Harbor.
He had changed clothes.
Black shirt.
Dark pants.
No tie.
A narrow cut marked his cheek.
Otherwise, he looked infuriatingly untouched by the fact that someone had tried to murder him three hours earlier.
Chloe walked toward him.
“You.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
“You almost got me killed.”
Leo coughed behind her.
Dominic looked genuinely puzzled.
“I believe the reverse occurred.”
“You walked into my restaurant with enemies following you.”
“They were not following me.”
“Someone shot at you!”
“Yes.”
“In my section!”
“That seems geographically unfortunate.”
Chloe stared.
“Did you just make a joke?”
“Possibly.”
She wanted to slap him.
Instead she said, “I want to go home.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“So do I.”
“This looks pretty home-like.”
“It isn’t mine.”
“Of course it isn’t.”
He approached slowly.
Chloe held her ground.
Dominic stopped several feet away.
“You saved my life.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
She stared at him.
“What kind of question is that?”
“Most people in that restaurant would have looked away.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No.”
Something in the way he said it unsettled her.
Dominic placed the check presenter on the table.
Chloe recognized her handwriting.
GUNMAN BEHIND YOU.
“You kept it?”
“It may be evidence.”
“You ran before police arrived.”
“Yes.”
“Which makes you look guilty.”
“I frequently look guilty.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Chloe rubbed her forehead.
“I cannot believe this is happening.”
Dominic watched her.
Then his gaze shifted toward Leo.
“Tell her.”
Leo hesitated.
“Tell me what?”
Dominic answered.
“The man who tried to kill me is named Aaron Pike.”
“Okay.”
“He worked for someone.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“And?”
“He had a photograph in his pocket.”
Chloe felt something terrible coming.
“Of you.”
The room disappeared around her.
“What?”
Leo placed a plastic evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a photograph.
Chloe leaving Massachusetts General Hospital.
Three months earlier.
Her mother was still alive then.
Chloe recognized the blue sweater she had worn almost every day during those six weeks.
On the back, someone had written:
BENNETT GIRL — IF NEEDED.
Chloe stopped breathing.
“This was before tonight.”
“Yes,” Dominic said.
“You knew me before tonight?”
“No.”
“Then why did your assassin have my picture?”
Dominic’s expression became darker than she had seen it all night.
“That,” he said, “is what we need to find out.”
Outside, dawn was beginning to lighten the Boston sky.
Chloe looked at the photograph.
Three months ago.
Before the receipt.
Before the gun.
Before she saved Dominic Moretti.
Someone had already decided she mattered.
And suddenly Chloe understood the most terrifying part.
May you like
She had not stepped into Dominic’s war tonight.
She had been inside it long before she knew his name.
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