Chapter 5 - The Man From Apartment 4C
Willa couldn't breathe.
The room smelled like dust, gunpowder, and cold night air.
Jared was still over her, one hand braced against the marble floor, the other shielding her head.
“Are you hit?”
She stared past him.
“Willa.”
“I heard him.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Jared moved away only after checking her twice.
Security flooded the terrace.
Miles shouted into a radio.
Roman stood trembling near the hallway, teeth exposed, his enormous body barely strong enough to support itself.
Willa crawled toward him.
“Roman.”
The dog nearly collapsed against her.
She wrapped both arms around his neck.
“You're okay.”
But she wasn't talking to Roman.
Her hands shook violently.
Jared noticed.
“Who was that?”
She closed her eyes.
“Brendan.”
The past returned with a clarity she hated.
Apartment 4C.
A deadbolt Brendan controlled.
A phone he checked nightly.
An apology Willa had practiced whenever she didn't know what she'd supposedly done wrong.
Brendan never started cruel.
That was what people misunderstood.
Cruel men rarely introduced themselves honestly.
He'd begun with coffee.
Then flowers.
Then rides home.
Then concern.
Why are you working that late?
Why are you talking to him?
Why didn't you answer?
Eventually concern became permission.
Permission became rules.
Rules became bruises.
Miles returned.
“He escaped through the maintenance roof. One of our men found climbing gear.”
Jared stared at him.
“Inside the building?”
“Yes.”
“Then he had help.”
The implication silenced everyone.
Someone had provided access.
Someone inside Jared's organization.
Willa rose.
“I have to go home.”
Jared turned sharply.
“No.”
The word triggered her so fast she nearly recoiled.
He saw it.
Changed his tone.
“Your apartment may be compromised.”
“It's my apartment.”
“And Brendan knows where you live.”
“He always knew.”
“He just fired into this penthouse.”
“At you?”
Jared paused.
“At us.”
“Exactly.”
Willa grabbed her jacket.
“Your world is the dangerous part.”
“Willa—”
“You think you can protect me because you've got men and cameras and bulletproof windows?”
She gestured toward the shattered glass.
“How's that working?”
Nobody spoke.
She continued.
“I survived Brendan because eventually I stopped believing he was stronger than me.”
Her eyes burned.
“I won't start living inside somebody else's fortress because he's back.”
Jared studied her for a long moment.
Then he turned to Miles.
“Take four men.”
“I don't need—”
“They stay outside.”
Willa opened her mouth.
“Not inside your apartment,” Jared said. “Not in your building. Across the street.”
She hated that it sounded reasonable.
“Fine.”
Jared nodded.
“And I'm coming.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked toward Roman.
“Because your ex just tried to kill someone in my home.”
“We don't know who he aimed at.”
Jared's expression became unreadable.
“I do.”
They reached Brooklyn shortly after two in the morning.
Willa's building looked smaller than she remembered from inside the armored SUV.
Three floors.
A flickering porch light.
Trash bags piled beside the stairs.
Home.
She exited first.
Jared followed.
“You stand out here.”
“I'm aware.”
“You look like a billionaire walking into a landlord dispute.”
“I'm not a billionaire.”
“Comforting.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Her apartment door was closed.
Willa touched the knob.
Unlocked.
She stopped breathing.
“I locked it.”
Jared stepped in front of her.
“No.”
“That's my home.”
“And somebody is inside.”
“You don't know that.”
He opened his jacket just enough for her to see the gun holstered beneath it.
Willa stiffened.
Jared immediately closed the jacket.
“Stay behind me.”
She hated following orders.
But this one she accepted.
The apartment was dark.
Nothing moved.
Jared checked the kitchen.
Bathroom.
Closet.
Empty.
Then Willa entered the bedroom.
Her stomach turned.
Photographs covered the wall.
Dozens.
Pictures Brendan had taken during their relationship.
Willa sleeping.
Willa cooking.
Willa crying.
Willa sitting on the bathroom floor after a fight.
And in the center, pinned above the bed, was a newer photograph.
Taken tonight.
Willa kneeling beside Roman in Jared's penthouse.
Jared came up behind her.
His face changed.
“He was inside.”
“Or someone sent it.”
A note rested on her pillow.
Willa didn't want to read it.
She did anyway.
YOU ALWAYS PICK BROKEN THINGS.
FIRST ME.
NOW THE DOG.
Jared took the note.
“What does that mean?”
Willa stared at the wall.
“Brendan used to say I needed people to need me.”
“Did he?”
“What?”
“Need you?”
She laughed bitterly.
“No.”
Her eyes moved to another photograph.
Brendan smiling at a backyard barbecue.
Perfect teeth.
Friendly face.
The face neighbors trusted.
“He needed someone to control.”
Jared's jaw tightened.
Willa noticed something in the photograph.
A man stood behind Brendan.
Partially turned.
Older.
Gray hair.
Scar along one jaw.
She pulled the photo free.
“Who is that?”
Jared's face darkened.
“Sebastian Vale.”
The room tilted.
“No.”
“You're sure Brendan never mentioned him?”
“No.”
“Never?”
Willa searched her memory.
Arguments.
Phone calls.
Brendan leaving suddenly.
One name.
Not Sebastian.
“Vale.”
Jared looked at her.
“He called someone Vale.”
“When?”
“I don't know. Years ago.”
Her pulse accelerated.
“He told me it was a client.”
Jared looked toward Miles, who had entered behind them.
“Brendan worked for Sebastian.”
Miles nodded grimly.
“Looks that way.”
Willa sat on the bed.
“Why?”
No one answered.
She looked up.
“Why me?”
Jared remained silent.
Then Miles saw something else.
A small photograph on the bedside table.
Willa as a teenager beside an older woman.
Her mother.
Miles picked it up.
“Who's this?”
“My mother.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Miles.”
He handed the photo to Jared.
Jared stared at it.
Then at Willa.
“When did your mother die?”
Willa felt anger rise.
“Why?”
“When?”
“I was seventeen.”
“How?”
“Hit-and-run.”
Jared's face went pale.
Miles whispered something under his breath.
Willa stood.
“What?”
Jared didn't answer.
“Tell me.”
He walked toward the window.
“Elena kept files.”
“What kind?”
“On my father's organization.”
Willa stared.
“She was investigating you?”
“My father.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed he ordered several murders before I took control.”
Willa's pulse hammered.
Jared turned.
“One of the names in Elena's files was Thornton.”
The air left Willa's lungs.
“No.”
“She never found the surviving daughter.”
Willa stared at him.
“My mother's name was Rebecca.”
Jared closed his eyes briefly.
“Rebecca Thornton.”
The room went silent.
Willa felt as though the floor had disappeared.
“My mother wasn't part of your world.”
“No.”
“She taught second grade.”
“I know.”
“Then why was her name in Elena's files?”
Jared opened his eyes.
“Because she witnessed something.”
“What?”
“A murder.”
Willa stepped backward.
Jared continued.
“My father believed she could identify Sebastian Vale.”
Willa's knees nearly gave out.
“No.”
“And the night she died…”
He stopped.
Willa's voice became barely audible.
“What?”
May you like
Jared forced himself to finish.
“Sebastian was seen three blocks from the intersection where your mother was killed.”
