Chapter 1 - No One Wakes Her
“Boss.”
Vincent Russo said the word quietly.
But something in his voice changed the atmosphere inside the jet.
Damian Hamilton looked away from Caitlyn and toward his second-in-command.
“What?”
Vincent stared at the message on his phone.
“The convoy in New York has been compromised.”
Nobody spoke.
Caitlyn’s fingers stopped above her tablet.
Damian did not move.
“How compromised?”
“Someone accessed tomorrow morning’s route twelve minutes ago.”
“From where?”
Vincent hesitated.
“Your Manhattan office.”
Caitlyn felt the exhaustion leave her body for one sharp second.
Only six people had access to Damian’s secure travel calendar.
She was one of them.
Damian’s eyes moved toward her.
The look was brief.
Controlled.
But Caitlyn knew exactly what it meant.
She swallowed.
“Mr. Hamilton, I didn’t—”
“I didn’t accuse you.”
“No, but—”
“Then don’t defend yourself against something I haven’t said.”
Vincent crossed the cabin and lowered his voice.
“The login credentials belonged to Caitlyn.”
Every man on the jet looked at her.
Caitlyn went cold.
“That’s impossible.”
Vincent turned the phone around.
Her employee identification number was on the screen.
CE-1847.
Her credentials.
Her security token.
Her account.
Even the timestamp showed activity while she had been sitting inside the Chicago conference room.
“I was with you,” she whispered.
“I know,” Damian said.
Vincent frowned.
“Someone cloned her credentials.”
“Obviously.”
Caitlyn stared at Damian.
He believed her.
She did not know why that frightened her almost as much as being accused.
Damian stood.
“Change our landing location.”
“To where?”
“Not New York.”
Vincent understood immediately.
“I’ll tell the pilots.”
“No electronic communication. Tell them in person.”
Vincent nodded and disappeared toward the cockpit.
Caitlyn tried returning to the contract.
Her hands were shaking now.
She typed three words.
Deleted four.
Typed again.
The letters doubled.
She rubbed her eyes.
Damian noticed.
“Close it.”
“I can finish.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“Mr. Hamilton—”
“Caitlyn.”
She looked at him.
For two years, she had known him as a man who could end arguments with one word.
Tonight, however, something was different.
There was concern beneath the command.
“Close the computer.”
She obeyed.
The jet hit turbulence.
Caitlyn grabbed the armrest.
Damian remained completely still.
“I hate flying,” she admitted before realizing she had spoken aloud.
“I know.”
She turned toward him.
“How?”
“You grip the armrest during every takeoff.”
“You noticed that?”
“I notice everything happening around me.”
Of course he did.
That was probably why Damian Hamilton was still alive.
Caitlyn leaned back.
She intended to close her eyes for ten seconds.
Just ten.
The engine’s low hum filled the cabin.
Rain streaked the windows.
Somewhere near the front, Vincent was speaking quietly.
Caitlyn’s thoughts drifted toward Noah.
She pictured her brother in the rehabilitation center, sunlight coming through his window.
She had promised to visit Sunday.
She had missed the previous Sunday.
And the one before that.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Damian glanced toward her.
“What?”
But Caitlyn was already asleep.
Her head slowly tilted.
Then landed directly on Damian Hamilton’s shoulder.
The cabin froze.
Vincent had just returned from the cockpit.
He stopped walking.
Marco Bell, one of Damian’s oldest security men, stared as though Caitlyn had accidentally pulled a pin from a grenade.
Nobody touched Damian.
Nobody.
Years earlier, one drunken associate had slapped Damian affectionately across the back during a celebration.
The man had spent the rest of the evening apologizing.
Now Caitlyn was sleeping against him.
Her cheek rested against his jacket.
One hand had fallen loosely beside his.
Vincent’s eyebrows rose.
Damian looked down.
Caitlyn sighed.
Then, somehow, she moved closer.
Marco looked away.
Vincent slowly raised a hand.
“Should I—”
Damian lifted two fingers.
“No one wakes her.”
Silence.
Even Vincent looked surprised.
Damian removed his jacket with careful movements and placed it over Caitlyn.
Then he looked at Vincent.
“Turn the cabin lights down.”
Vincent obeyed.
For the next hour, Damian Hamilton barely moved.
His shoulder gradually went numb.
He ignored it.
Caitlyn slept.
Eventually Vincent sat opposite him.
“You know this is going to become a story.”
Damian gave him a look.
Vincent smiled faintly.
“I’m just saying. Half these men have known you fifteen years. They’ve never seen you let anyone—”
“Finish that sentence and you can walk home from Pennsylvania.”
Vincent’s smile vanished.
“Pennsylvania?”
Damian glanced toward the cockpit.
“That’s where we’re landing.”
Vincent understood.
A private airfield outside Scranton.
Close to Caitlyn’s brother’s rehabilitation center.
Coincidence?
Vincent had known Damian too long to believe in coincidences.
“You’ve been investigating her,” he said.
Damian’s expression hardened.
“I investigate everyone who works near me.”
“Not like this.”
Damian looked down at the sleeping woman.
Caitlyn’s face seemed younger when she was not worrying.
“You found something,” Vincent said.
Damian remained silent.
“About the brother?”
Damian finally answered.
“Three weeks ago, I reviewed the insurance records connected to Noah Elmore’s accident.”
“And?”
“The truck that hit their parents’ vehicle belonged to a logistics subcontractor.”
Vincent waited.
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“A subcontractor controlled by Hamilton Holdings.”
Vincent stopped breathing for a moment.
“You never told me that.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Was it one of ours?”
“On paper.”
“And off paper?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to discover.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“What exactly are you saying?”
Damian looked toward the dark window.
“I’m saying Noah Elmore’s accident may not have been an accident.”
Caitlyn moved slightly.
Both men stopped speaking.
She remained asleep.
Vincent lowered his voice further.
“Who was the truck driver?”
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Six days after the collision.”
Vincent stared at him.
“That’s not coincidence.”
“No.”
“What was he transporting?”
“That information was deleted.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Vincent glanced at Caitlyn.
“And she knows none of this?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why hire her?”
Damian’s eyes shifted back toward him.
There was the question.
The one Damian had avoided answering for two years.
“I didn’t.”
Vincent frowned.
“What?”
“Human resources rejected her application.”
“Then how did she become your secretary?”
“I reversed the decision.”
“Why?”
Damian was silent for several seconds.
“Because I recognized her name.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“From where?”
Damian looked at the sleeping woman.
“Her father.”
The cabin seemed colder.
“Thomas Elmore?”
Damian nodded.
Vincent knew the name.
Everyone who had survived Damian’s early years knew the name.
Thomas Elmore had been an accountant.
Quiet.
Honest.
And twelve years earlier, he had discovered financial records connecting Hamilton’s organization to a trafficking network Damian himself had been trying to destroy.
Thomas had agreed to testify.
Then he had disappeared from the case.
Years later, he had died in what authorities called an ordinary highway collision.
Vincent whispered, “You think someone killed him.”
“I think someone killed both her parents.”
“And injured Noah.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Damian’s gaze darkened.
“That is the problem.”
The jet began descending.
Vincent looked toward Caitlyn.
“What happens when she finds out you knew her father?”
Damian did not answer.
Because he already knew.
She would hate him.
Perhaps she should.
The wheels touched the runway twenty minutes later.
Caitlyn woke abruptly.
She lifted her head.
Then realized where it had been.
Her face turned bright red.
“Oh my God.”
Damian looked straight ahead.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing happened.”
“I fell asleep on you.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Hamilton.”
“Stop apologizing.”
She pulled his jacket from around herself.
Then froze.
“You covered me?”
“No.”
Caitlyn blinked.
Damian nodded toward Vincent.
“He did.”
Vincent looked personally betrayed.
Caitlyn turned toward him.
“Thank you.”
Vincent opened his mouth.
Damian’s stare stopped him.
“My pleasure,” Vincent muttered.
The cabin door opened.
Cold Pennsylvania air entered.
Caitlyn looked outside.
This was not New York.
“Where are we?”
“Scranton.”
Her heart jumped.
“My brother is forty minutes from here.”
“I know.”
She looked at Damian.
“How do you know where Noah is?”
A vehicle raced toward the aircraft.
Marco immediately reached inside his jacket.
Damian stood.
The vehicle stopped.
A man jumped out.
He was wearing the uniform of the private airfield.
He ran toward them carrying an envelope.
“Mr. Hamilton!”
Security intercepted him.
The man raised both hands.
“I was told to give this directly to you.”
Damian took the envelope.
There was no name on it.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Caitlyn saw Damian’s face change.
For the first time in two years, she saw something almost resembling fear.
“What is it?”
He tried to turn the photograph away.
Too late.
Caitlyn had already seen it.
It showed Noah.
Her brother was sitting in his wheelchair beside the rehabilitation center window.
The photograph had been taken recently.
Very recently.
Across the bottom, someone had written six words in black ink.
THE GIRL SHOULD HAVE STAYED INVISIBLE.
Caitlyn stopped breathing.
Then Damian turned the photograph over.
There was another message.
This one was for him.
YOU PROTECTED THE WRONG ELMORE.
Damian slowly raised his eyes.
“Vincent.”
“Yes?”
“Call the rehabilitation center.”
Caitlyn grabbed Damian’s arm without thinking.
“What does that mean?”
He looked at her hand.
Then at her terrified face.
May you like
And for once, he did not tell her to let go.
“It means,” Damian said quietly, “someone knows exactly who you are.”
