Chapter 2 - The Poison in the Penthouse
Ten minutes later, Dr. Martin Kline entered carrying a medical case.
Nobody spoke while he collected the spilled liquor from the marble floorboards.
I remained on my knees. Vincent remained beside the bar. Adrian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows with Manhattan glittering behind him.
Kline added a clear reagent to the liquid sample inside a glass test tube.
The liquid instantly turned an unmistakable, violent violet.
Kline's face drained of color.
“What is it?” Adrian asked, his voice steady as a razor blade.
“Aconitine,” Kline whispered, his hands trembling. “Highly concentrated. One sip could cause fatal cardiac arrhythmia within minutes.”
Vincent’s hand moved toward his jacket.
Adrian moved first.
CRACK.
A muffled shot cracked through the penthouse. Vincent collapsed backward against the mahogany wet bar, clutching his chest, before slumping motionless onto the parquet.
I screamed, pressing both hands against my mouth.
Adrian holstered his suppressed sidearm with surgical detachment.
“Take him out,” Adrian commanded.
Two tactical guards stepped in, wrapping Vincent's body in plastic and dragging him away through the service elevator.
I stared at the blood on Adrian’s lip. Then at the broken glass. Then at the front double doors.
I wanted to run.
Adrian approached instead.
“What’s your name?”
“You know my name.”
“I know what the cleaning company calls you.” He crouched until his slate-grey eyes were level with mine. “I asked what you call yourself.”
“Cara Jenkins.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-four.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Four months.”
“And during those four months?”
“I cleaned.”
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you see?”
“Nothing.”
His mouth almost formed a smile. “Except tonight.”
I looked away. “Except tonight.”
Adrian stood up. “You saved my life.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“That isn’t what concerns me.”
“I’ll quit.”
“No.”
“I’ll disappear.”
“No.”
My stomach tightened into a knot. “I’m just a maid.”
“Vincent controlled access to half my organization,” Adrian said, looking toward the shadows of the hallway. “If he betrayed me, I don’t know who else has.”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“You noticed something six armed men missed.”
“Because I was cleaning your study.”
“And right now, you are the only person in this building I know wasn’t trying to kill me.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Why?”
I hesitated. “My brother.”
Adrian’s expression sharpened. “What about him?”
“He’s sick.”
“How sick?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He glanced toward one of his guards. “Find out.”
My blood went cold. “No.”
The guard stopped.
I stood up, clenching my fists. “Leave Toby out of this.”
Adrian studied me. “Your brother’s name is Toby?”
I realized my mistake. “He needs me.”
“What does he have?”
I said nothing. Adrian waited with immovable patience.
“Cystic fibrosis,” I whispered, tears burning my eyelids.
Something changed in his expression. Almost nothing. But I saw a flicker of profound, buried memory in his dark eyes.
“He’s at Mount Sinai,” I continued, my voice cracking. “There’s a targeted gene modulator treatment his doctors want to try before his lung function drops below forty percent.”
“How much?”
I hated answering. “Almost three hundred thousand dollars.”
“After insurance?”
“They denied it as experimental.”
Adrian turned to Marcus Stone. “Get her brother’s full name. Hospital. Doctor. Account numbers. Everything.”
My heart stopped. “What are you doing?”
Adrian looked back at me. “Paying my debt.”
“I didn’t save you for money.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t leave debts unpaid.”
“That’s not your decision.”
His dark eyes locked onto mine. “It became my decision when you punched me in the face.”
Despite the terror, despite the blood on the floor, a breathless, hysterical chuckle almost escaped my lips.
Then Adrian’s encrypted satellite phone rang.
He answered. Listened. His expression hardened into solid granite.
“When?”
A pause.
“Lock the building.”
He disconnected the call and turned toward his tactical vanguard.
“What happened?” I asked, taking an involuntary step back.
May you like
Adrian looked toward the heavily armored elevator doors, then looked directly into my eyes.
“Vincent wasn’t working alone,” Adrian said softly. “And whoever helped him knows Cara saw everything.”
