Chapter 1 - THE BAKERY AT MIDNIGHT
Julian Croft had been threatened by politicians, rival crews, federal investigators, and men who had once put guns against the back of his head.
None of them had ever made his hand shake.
Yet as he stood alone in Maya’s small bedroom with Derek’s voice still in his ear, Julian looked down and realized his fingers were trembling around his phone.
“She needs the money?”
“Yes.”
Julian stared at the blank page on Maya’s desk.
She had apparently tried to leave him a note.
She had written nothing.
That somehow bothered him more than a lie would have.
“How long has she been working there?”
“Three months that I know of.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“You knew for three months.”
“Maya asked me not to tell you.”
“And you listened to her.”
Derek exhaled.
“She isn’t one of your soldiers, Julian.”
Julian said nothing.
“She doesn’t work for you in that sense.”
“She lives under my roof.”
“She works in your home.”
“She lives here.”
“That distinction matters to you more than it does to her.”
Julian walked toward the window.
Chicago glittered below him as though millions of people were not currently lying, stealing, cheating, hurting, starving, and surviving inside it.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Maya still thinks she is an employee.”
Julian’s expression hardened.
“She is.”
Derek was quiet for a moment.
“Right.”
Something about the way he said it made Julian turn.
Derek was not there to see his face.
That was probably fortunate.
“Send me the bakery address.”
“No.”
Julian went completely still.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
There were perhaps five people alive who could tell Julian Croft no without immediately reconsidering their life choices.
Derek Vance was one of them.
“If you go there angry, you’re going to make this worse.”
“She lied to me.”
“She hid something from you.”
“That is a lie.”
“It’s fear.”
“Of what?”
Derek’s silence answered him before his words did.
“Of you, maybe.”
Julian’s hand tightened.
The possibility irritated him because it hurt.
Maya laughed at him when he was too serious.
She once told him his expensive espresso tasted like burned tires.
She had walked into his office while three armed captains were discussing a shipment dispute and asked whether any of them knew how to use a dishwasher.
She had never behaved as though she feared him.
Apparently, he had misunderstood.
“Send me the address.”
Derek sighed.
A message arrived ten seconds later.
Julian ended the call.
He reached for his coat.
Then he stopped.
On Maya’s dresser sat an old leather wallet.
She had apparently changed purses before leaving.
Julian had no intention of touching it.
Then he noticed three white envelopes protruding from behind the identification slot.
FINAL NOTICE.
PAST DUE.
IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED.
Julian stared at them.
He picked up the first envelope.
Then he set it down again.
Opening another person’s mail was invasive.
Julian had ordered warehouses searched without warrants.
He had paid officials to erase surveillance footage.
He had once sent men into a rival’s private safe room because he suspected someone had copied a ledger.
Yet somehow opening Maya’s debt notice felt like crossing a line.
He hated that.
He hated even more that fear was beginning to crawl up his spine.
Julian took a photograph of the creditor name printed on the outside.
Briarwood Financial Services.
He sent it to Derek.
“Find out everything.”
Derek replied almost immediately.
“On it.”
Julian left the penthouse.
Thirty minutes later, a black sedan rolled to a stop across from a small twenty-four-hour bakery on Milwaukee Avenue.
Julian sat in the back seat.
He had intended to walk inside immediately.
Then he saw her through the glass.
Maya was carrying a tray toward the display counter.
Her hair was twisted into a messy knot.
Flour covered one cheek.
Her shoulders were sagging.
She smiled at an elderly customer anyway.
Julian watched her hand the man a paper bag.
The customer said something.
Maya laughed.
Julian felt something inside his chest twist.
She looked tired.
Not ordinary tired.
She looked exhausted in the way soldiers looked after three nights without sleep.
A younger employee approached and handed Maya another stack of trays.
Maya nodded.
Then she bent down quickly.
Too quickly.
Her hand caught the edge of the counter.
Julian leaned forward.
Maya stayed there for several seconds.
The other employee noticed.
She touched Maya’s shoulder.
Maya waved her away.
Then Maya stood again.
Julian reached for the door handle.
His phone rang.
Derek.
Julian answered.
“Tell me.”
“Briarwood Financial Services isn’t a normal lender.”
Julian’s gaze remained fixed on Maya.
“What is it?”
“A shell.”
“For who?”
“I’m tracing it.”
Julian watched Maya rub her wrist.
There was a dark mark near her sleeve.
His voice changed.
“Derek.”
“I know.”
“For who?”
“I need ten minutes.”
“You have two.”
Julian ended the call.
Inside the bakery, Maya looked toward the window.
Their eyes met.
Her face went white.
Julian knew immediately that she understood exactly why he was there.
Maya put down the tray.
She whispered something to her coworker.
Then she disappeared through a door behind the counter.
Julian stepped from the car.
By the time he entered the bakery, Maya was waiting near the employee hallway.
“What are you doing here?”
Her voice was low.
Julian looked at the flour covering her apron.
Then at the dark circles beneath her eyes.
Then at her shoes.
Cheap black sneakers.
The sole of the left one had begun separating.
“You walked home last night.”
Maya blinked.
“What?”
“You walked from here to the penthouse.”
“Julian—”
“At two in the morning.”
“I didn’t have bus fare.”
Something in his face changed.
Maya immediately regretted saying it.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“You didn’t have bus fare.”
“I said it was fine.”
“You work in my home.”
“Yes.”
“I pay you well.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you have three dollars?”
People at nearby tables had begun glancing toward them.
Maya stepped closer.
“Not here.”
“That is the first intelligent suggestion anyone has made tonight.”
She glared at him.
“Stop talking to me like I’m one of your men.”
“Then stop behaving like one of them.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Working until you collapse and lying when anyone asks whether you are bleeding.”
“I’m not bleeding.”
Julian’s eyes dropped to her wrist.
Maya instinctively pulled down her sleeve.
His expression became frighteningly calm.
“What happened to your arm?”
“Nothing.”
“Maya.”
“A tray slipped.”
“Show me.”
“No.”
His gaze snapped back to hers.
“No?”
“I am not one of your soldiers, remember?”
For the first time that night, Maya saw something almost human pass across Julian’s face.
Pain.
Then it was gone.
She regretted the words immediately.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did.”
A manager appeared from the back.
“Maya, is everything okay?”
Julian turned his head.
The man stopped.
Something about Julian required no introduction.
Maya stepped between them.
“Yes.”
The manager looked uncertain.
“We need those cinnamon rolls finished before three.”
“I’ll handle them.”
Julian stared at her.
“You are leaving.”
“No.”
“Maya.”
“I need this shift.”
“I’ll pay you for it.”
Her eyes flashed.
“That is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
Julian went silent.
“I am not your charity case.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Maya—”
“You see a problem and throw money at it until it disappears.”
His jaw tightened.
“That tends to work.”
“Well, I am not a problem.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to walk in here because Derek told you something I trusted him with and decide I’m done working.”
“I am deciding you’re done destroying yourself.”
“That isn’t your decision.”
Her voice cracked on the final word.
Julian heard it.
So did Maya.
She looked away.
“I need two hundred dollars by Thursday.”
Julian froze.
She continued before courage abandoned her.
“If I don’t make the payment, the penalty gets added again.”
“What payment?”
She shook her head.
“You came here because you wanted answers.”
“I came here because you disappeared.”
“I went to work.”
“You disappeared.”
Her anger flared.
“I’m twenty-three years old.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t need permission to leave.”
“No.”
“Then stop acting like I do.”
Julian stepped closer.
His voice dropped.
“I waited four hours last night because every enemy I have knows this address.”
Maya stared at him.
“Every enemy I have knows who works for me.”
Her anger faltered.
“Every enemy I have knows who enters my building.”
She swallowed.
“And every enemy I have has spent years looking for something I might care enough about to make me careless.”
Neither of them moved.
Maya’s voice became barely audible.
“Do they know about me?”
Julian did not answer quickly enough.
Her face changed.
“Oh my God.”
“Maya.”
“You knew.”
“I knew there was a possibility.”
“You never told me.”
“I increased security.”
“That isn’t telling me.”
“I was trying not to frighten you.”
She laughed once, bitterly.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
Julian accepted the blow.
Maya rubbed her forehead.
“This is why I can’t tell you things.”
“Because I protect you?”
“Because you decide things for me.”
Julian stared at her.
For once, he had no immediate response.
His phone vibrated.
Derek.
Julian answered without looking away from Maya.
“What?”
Derek spoke three words.
Julian’s entire body went still.
Maya noticed.
“What is it?”
Julian did not respond.
Derek continued speaking.
Julian’s face slowly emptied of emotion.
That frightened Maya more than anger would have.
“Julian?”
He lowered the phone.
“We’re leaving.”
“I already told you—”
“Now.”
“No.”
He moved closer.
“Maya, the company you owe money to is controlled by Vincent Vale.”
The name meant nothing to her.
Her silence told him that.
Julian’s eyes darkened.
“He is not a lender.”
Maya’s stomach tightened.
“Then what is he?”
Julian looked through the bakery windows toward the street.
A gray sedan had just parked across the road.
Two men remained inside.
Julian’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“My enemy.”
The bakery lights flickered once.
Then twice.
Then every light in the building went out.
Someone screamed.
Julian reached for Maya.
May you like
The front window shattered.
And the first gunshot tore through the darkness.
