Chapter 1
“Don’t wake her,” Mason whispered.
I stopped in the doorway.
For three hours, I had torn Chicago apart looking for my six-month-old nephew.
I had threatened men who thought they were fearless.
I had sent cars into every alley, every warehouse, every empty lot from Lincoln Park to Hammond.
I had promised my dead brother that nobody would ever touch his son.
And tonight, I had failed.
Then I saw Eli.
Alive.
Sleeping.
Curled against Claire Bennett’s chest.
My whole body went still.
Claire lay on the safe house sofa in a torn beige coat, one shoe missing, her dark hair tangled against the cushion.
There was dried blood along the hem of her coat.
Her cheek was swollen.
Her blouse was ripped at the shoulder.
Both of her arms were locked around the baby like even sleep could not convince her the danger was over.
Eli’s tiny hand gripped one of her shirt buttons.
He looked peaceful.
She looked like she had fought through hell to keep him that way.
I turned slowly toward Mason.
“What did you say?”
Mason’s bruised face tightened.
“I said don’t wake her, boss.”
Men had disappeared for less.
But Mason did not lower his eyes.
“She hasn’t slept since the ambush,” he said quietly. “Doctor said she stayed upright on adrenaline and stubbornness.”
Rain slammed against the windows behind him.
Twelve armed men waited outside for my next order.
Damian Cross was still breathing somewhere in my city.
My brother’s child had been taken.
My enemies had crossed a line that usually ended bloodlines.
But when I stepped into that room, every violent thought in my head went quiet.
I dropped to one knee beside the sofa.
Eli’s face was warm when I touched his cheek.
My throat closed.
“Nathan,” I whispered.
My older brother had been dead for eleven months.
His wife, Grace, died beside him in the same highway crash.
Eli was all they left behind.
I had stood at their graves in the snow and promised I would protect him.
Tonight, Claire Bennett had kept that promise for me.
“How?” I asked.
Mason leaned against the wall like his legs were done holding him.
“She was in the third SUV.”
My head snapped up.
“She was not supposed to be near the convoy.”
“I know.”
“Why was she there?”
“Her car broke down outside the Reynolds office. Your driver recognized her and offered a ride downtown.”
A coincidence.
In my world, coincidences were usually traps.
Mason continued.
“Cross’s men boxed the convoy under Lower Wacker. They hit fast. Smoke, road spikes, fake construction crew. They grabbed Eli. Claire got pulled with him.”
I looked back at her split knuckles.
“What happened after?”
Mason gave a short laugh.
Not amused.
Shaken.
“You won’t believe it.”
“Try.”
“They took her and Eli to an old shipping warehouse near Hammond. Zip-tied her hands. Left one guard inside the room.”
“And?”
“She got loose.”
I stared at him.
“Claire got loose?”
“She used a broken chair leg to cut the tie.”
I looked at Claire again.
Claire Bennett was five-foot-five.
Soft-spoken.
An accountant.
She wore cardigans and sensible shoes.
She apologized when other people bumped into her.
“She took out the guard,” Mason said.
“With what?”
“A fire extinguisher.”
I blinked.
Mason almost smiled.
“Then she stole his key card, carried Eli through a service corridor, set off the fire suppression system, killed half the lights, climbed into a delivery truck, and drove straight through a side gate.”
“She drove here?”
“Twenty-eight miles.”
“With those injuries?”
“With Eli in her lap and Cross’s men following for twelve of those miles.”
My hand curled into a fist.
Mason lowered his voice.
“She saved him.”
I knew that.
I could see it.
I could feel it in the room.
For two years, Claire had worked in the accounting division of companies I secretly owned.
She thought I valued her because she found missing money.
That was true.
But it was not the whole truth.
I noticed Claire the first week she walked into my office with a file under her arm and fear nowhere on her face.
A senior manager had tried to explain why two million dollars had vanished.
Claire waited until he finished lying.
Then she slid one folder across my desk.
“The money did not vanish,” she said. “It was divided into seventeen invoices because someone assumed nobody checks amounts under one hundred twenty thousand.”
She named the thief.
She was right.
I promoted her.
Moved her to my safest building.
Kept my distance.
Because women like Claire did not belong near men like me.
My world swallowed soft things.
Tonight proved that.
Claire shifted suddenly.
Eli whimpered.
I froze.
Her eyes opened.
For one moment, she did not know where she was.
Then she saw me.
Her arms tightened around Eli.
“Don’t take him,” she rasped.
The words hit me harder than any bullet ever had.
“I won’t,” I said. “He’s safe.”
Her eyes searched mine.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Only then did her grip loosen a fraction.
Mason stepped forward.
“Claire, you did good.”
She ignored him and looked at me.
“They weren’t after Eli because of your brother.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
Her hand trembled as she reached inside her torn coat.
She pulled out a folded paper, wet with rain and stained at the corner.
“I heard Cross on the phone,” she whispered. “He said the baby was leverage.”
“Against me?”
She shook her head.
“Against his mother’s family.”
I took the paper.
It was a birth certificate.
Eli Nathan Kane.
Mother: Grace Whitmore Kane.
Father: Nathan Kane.
Attached behind it was another document.
A trust amendment.
My brother’s signature.
Grace’s signature.
I read the first line.
Upon the death of both parents, all Whitmore family shares transfer to Eli Kane under the temporary guardianship of Gabriel Kane until his twenty-first birthday.
I looked at Claire.
“What is this?”
Her eyes filled.
“The reason Nathan and Grace died.”
Before I could answer, the safe house alarm screamed.
Mason drew his gun.
Men shouted outside.
Claire pulled Eli back against her chest.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
May you like
Damian Cross laughed softly.
“You found the accountant. Good. Now ask her why she was really in that convoy.”
