Chapter 1 - SEVEN DOLLARS AND A DANGEROUS STRANGER
“Dominic doesn't own this debt.”
Vincent Moretti said the words so quietly that I almost didn't hear them over the music.
I stared at him.
“What?”
He turned the threatening letter around and placed one finger on the red stamp.
The snake.
The dagger.
The symbol that had haunted my nightmares for four days.
“This mark belongs to my organization,” he said. “But it isn't used for ordinary gambling debts.”
My stomach tightened.
“What is it used for?”
Vincent looked directly at me.
“Collection orders issued against people who have stolen from us.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I swallowed.
“David didn't steal from me?”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“I didn't say that.”
He leaned closer.
“I said thirty thousand dollars isn't the whole story.”
Before I could answer, the bartender appeared with a glass of water.
“Miss Mercer,” he said gently, “you look pale.”
I stared.
“How do you know my name?”
The bartender glanced at Vincent.
My stomach dropped.
Vincent noticed.
“I asked him to bring you water.”
“You know who I am?”
“Only what you've told me.”
I looked toward the exit.
Vincent followed my gaze.
“You're free to leave.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Where exactly would I go?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he asked, “Have you seen a doctor about your injuries?”
I looked down.
“No.”
“Why?”
I smiled without humor.
“I have seven dollars.”
His eyes moved to my jacket.
Then to the untouched drink.
Then back to my face.
For the first time, the dangerous man beside me looked less angry than troubled.
“Rowan,” he said, “you need medical attention.”
“I need thirty thousand dollars.”
“No.”
I blinked.
He continued, “You need to stop believing that man's debt belongs to you.”
My throat tightened.
“His collectors disagree.”
Vincent looked at the letter.
“Then they're going to have a very uncomfortable conversation with me.”
His phone rang.
He answered without looking away.
“Enzo.”
A pause.
“Where?”
Another pause.
Vincent's expression changed.
“Bring him to the office. Nobody touches him.”
He ended the call.
I stared.
“Dominic?”
Vincent nodded.
I swallowed.
“Are you going to hurt him?”
“No.”
The answer surprised me.
He continued, “But I'm going to find out why he sent men after you.”
I looked down at the table.
For four days, I'd been terrified of the Moretti name.
Now the most powerful Moretti in New York was sitting beside me.
And somehow, that frightened me even more.
Vincent stood.
“Come with me.”
I looked up.
“Where?”
“To a hospital.”
I shook my head.
“I can't afford—”
“I'll cover the bill.”
My chest tightened.
“I don't want to owe you anything.”
Vincent paused.
Then said something I would remember for the rest of my life.
“Then don't.”
I stared.
He extended his hand.
“Let me help you because you need help. Not because you owe me.”
For a long moment, I didn't move.
Then I looked at the seven-dollar bill lying beside my glass.
The last money I had in the world.
I picked it up.
Folded it carefully.
And stood.
Outside, rain swept across the Brooklyn sidewalk.
A black SUV waited by the curb.
Vincent opened the rear door.
I hesitated.
He noticed.
“You can sit in front if you'd prefer.”
I looked at him.
“You always give people choices?”
His mouth curved slightly.
“Not always.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“That's reassuring.”
He almost smiled.
May you like
Then he stepped aside.
And for the first time in four days, I climbed into a car without feeling completely alone.
