Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Knew Too Much
Vincent refused to take Mave home.
She objected for eleven straight minutes.
“I have clothes there.”
“We’ll buy clothes.”
“My laptop.”
“Replace it.”
“My plants.”
Vincent stared.
“Your plants?”
“Yes.”
“Those are your argument?”
“They need water.”
Leo turned from the front seat.
“I’ll water them.”
Mave pointed.
“You’ll drown them.”
“Probably.”
Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You were nearly killed twenty minutes ago.”
“And my fern is innocent.”
Vincent looked at Leo.
“Send someone competent.”
“Insulting.”
They drove to a townhouse in Brooklyn that appeared completely ordinary.
No gates.
No guards visible.
Inside was different.
Reinforced doors.
Security monitors.
Emergency generator.
Hidden basement access.
Mave looked around.
“This is a safe house.”
“Yes.”
“How many do you have?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I probably do.”
“That’s the problem.”
Vincent gave her the upstairs bedroom.
He took the couch.
“You own the place.”
“Yes.”
“Take the bed.”
“No.”
“You’re six-foot-two.”
“Six-three.”
“That makes the couch worse.”
“I’ll survive.”
She stared.
“You’re strange.”
“You’ve worked for me three years.”
“I assumed it was criminal eccentricity.”
He almost smiled.
At 2:00 a.m., Mave could not sleep.
She went downstairs.
Vincent sat at the kitchen table with the Belize records spread before him.
No jacket.
Sleeves rolled.
Bruises darkening across his ribs from the crash.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That isn’t medical terminology.”
She found the first-aid kit.
“Sit still.”
“Mave.”
“Sit.”
Vincent Costa obeyed.
That would have shocked half the city.
She cleaned a cut near his shoulder.
“You could have died tonight.”
“So could you.”
“Because of your organization.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
She stopped.
“Do you regret hiring me?”
He looked up.
“No.”
“You answered quickly.”
“I didn’t need to think.”
Her fingers paused against his skin.
Vincent continued.
“I regret that you became visible.”
“To whom?”
“People who look for leverage.”
“Like the man at the gala.”
“Yes.”
Mave taped gauze into place.
“You know what’s funny?”
“Probably nothing.”
“For three years I thought I was invisible.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You were never invisible.”
Her heartbeat stumbled.
She stepped back.
“Who do you think is stealing the money?”
“Dominic.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want it to be Salvatore.”
“That isn’t evidence.”
“I know.”
“Then stop thinking like a nephew.”
He looked irritated.
“Think like what?”
“Like a boss.”
Vincent leaned back.
“You enjoy telling me what to do.”
“Somebody has to.”
They spent the next four hours rebuilding eighteen months of transactions.
At dawn, Mave discovered the pattern.
The money was not merely being stolen.
It was buying something.
Warehouse leases.
Vehicles.
Private security contracts.
Burner phones.
Shell companies.
Someone was building a parallel organization inside Vincent’s own.
A shadow syndicate.
And every transaction occurred while Vincent was away.
Mave looked at the final spreadsheet.
“This isn’t embezzlement.”
Vincent already understood.
“It’s a coup.”
She nodded.
Someone was preparing to remove Vincent Costa.
The gray sedan had not attacked them because Mave knew too much.
It attacked because she had discovered the final stage.
Vincent stood.
“Pack.”
“For where?”
“You’re leaving New York.”
“No.”
“Mave.”
“No.”
“I’m not negotiating.”
“You literally need me.”
“I need you alive.”
“And I need a paycheck.”
“I’ll pay you.”
“That is not the point.”
Vincent slammed his palm against the table.
“Stop!”
Mave froze.
He rarely raised his voice.
Vincent immediately regretted it.
He lowered his tone.
“Someone tried to kill you.”
“I noticed.”
“Because you work for me.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t understand what that does to me.”
Silence.
Mave stared.
“What does it do?”
Vincent looked away.
Wrong move.
She stepped closer.
“Vincent.”
His jaw tightened.
“I can replace accountants.”
“That’s charming.”
“I can replace drivers. Warehouses. Lawyers.”
He looked at her.
“I cannot replace you.”
Everything became still.
Mave whispered:
“I’m your secretary.”
“No.”
One word.
Too honest.
Vincent seemed almost angry with himself.
“You stopped being just my secretary a long time ago.”
Her heartbeat thundered.
“How long?”
He said nothing.
“How long, Vincent?”
“About two years and eleven months.”
Mave blinked.
“You hired me three years ago.”
“I’m aware.”
“One month?”
“You argued with me over a parking ticket.”
“You were wrong.”
“I was illegally parked.”
“Exactly.”
Despite everything, he smiled.
Then the smile disappeared.
“That’s why you have to leave.”
Mave shook her head.
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“You don’t get to decide how important I am and then use that importance to remove my choices.”
That struck him.
“I’m staying.”
“Mave—”
“And we’re finding whoever built the shadow network.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
“You’re insane.”
“You hired me.”
Vincent stared at her.
Then, slowly:
“Fine.”
Mave smiled.
“Good.”
“But you don’t leave my sight.”
Her smile vanished.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Negotiation closed.”
She folded her arms.
Vincent almost enjoyed winning.
Then his phone rang.
Leo.
Vincent answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
Mave watched.
Then:
“When?”
Another pause.
Vincent lowered the phone.
“What happened?” she asked.
He looked at her.
“Dominic Vale is dead.”
Mave’s stomach dropped.
“How?”
“Shot in his apartment.”
“So he wasn’t running the coup.”
“Maybe.”
“Or someone wants us to think that.”
Vincent nodded.
Then Leo said something through the phone.
Vincent went completely still.
“What?”
Mave waited.
He ended the call.
“Vincent?”
“The gun found beside Dominic…”
May you like
“Yes?”
“Belongs to Salvatore.”
