Prologue

“Celia.”  Bobby Doyle put down his fork and smiled at her.  It reminded Celia of the way a shark might smile at his prey before taking a huge bite out of him.  Or her.

Celia swallowed and set her fork carefully on her plate.  Cleared her throat.  “Yes, Mr. Doyle?”

“Thank you for this wonderful meal,” Bobby said, still smiling.  But his eyes were cold.  Assessing.

She curled her fingers into her thighs.  “You’re welcome,” she said.  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Always,” Bobby said.  “You’re a wonderful chef.”

Celia drew in a deep breath.  “Thank you, Mr. Doyle.”

He knew.  While she’d been listening to the day’s recordings earlier that evening, she’d heard him find the bug.  She should have taken off immediately, but she’d figured it would be less suspicious if she waited until after dinner.  Now she regretted her decision.

As she looked down at her plate, she snuck a glance at Nick, seated across the table from her.  He avoided her gaze, concentrating on his meal.

Celia pretended to focus on her own meal, although it tasted like sawdust.  Everyone in the room, including Nick, was on edge.  Except Bobby Doyle.  Bobby seemed almost jovial.  As if he was enjoying the tension that swirled through the dining room.  Liked knowing he had the power to make everyone nervous.  Scared.

Because she was terrified, and she was pretty sure Bobby knew it.  Enjoyed it.  He was playing with her the way a cat played with a mouse.  Give it the illusion of escape before they snatched it in their jaws.

What did Bobby’s men know?  Fingers?  Troy Murray?  The two younger guys whose names she didn’t even know?

She glanced at Nick again.  What did Nick know?

She knew she couldn’t count on any of Bobby’s men to help her.  Bobby paid their salaries.  Bobby assigned them jobs.  She’d watched the interaction between Bobby and his men, and they were his tools.  He used them however he needed them.

Nick was different.  He didn’t appear to work for his father.  He just lived in his house.  She had no idea what Nick did, because they’d never had a conversation.  But she’d spent a lot of time watching him.  It was painful to admit, but she was attracted to Nick.  And sometimes she saw a flash of desire in his eyes when he looked at her, so she was pretty sure the attraction went both ways.

But tonight he avoided looking at her.  It was clear he knew something was up.

She swallowed the piece of potato she’d reduced to mush in her mouth.  If everything went south, could she count on Nick for help?  Could she count on him to protect her?

From everything she’d seen, the answer was no.  Nick didn’t defy his father.  He kept his head down, appeared for dinner, and didn’t rock the boat.

Just then he looked up.  Gave her a sidelong glance, and in his gaze she saw fear.  A warning.

Celia’s stomach churned.  She needed to get out of this house.  Right now.  She had what she needed in her room, so as soon as Bobby stood up, indicating the meal was over, she stood, as well.  Her chair squeaked across the floor, and she swallowed the bile in the back of her throat.  Turned and hurried out of the room.

Before she made it to the stairs, Fingers moved close to her.  “The Boss wants to talk to you,” he said.  “Right now.”

Celia drew in a breath.  Nodded.  “Okay.  But I need to use the bathroom first.  Please tell him I’ll be right down.”

Without waiting for Fingers to answer, she ran up the stairs and into her room.  Closed the door and locked it, then activated the small metal square that slid across the door, making it impossible to open the door, even with a key.  She’d installed that the week before, after she’d heard someone trying her door in the middle of the night.

She drew a deep breath, trying to steady herself.  But there was no settling tonight.  She’d been on edge all week, sensing an unpleasant, unnerving vibe swirling through Bobby Doyle’s house.  She wasn’t sure what caused it, but it made her itchy.  Made warning bells shriek in her brain.  ‘Go.  Now.  Get out.  Disappear.’

Now Bobby wanted to talk to her.  She didn’t have much time.  She wrapped the fanny pack around her waist and put in the three thousand dollars in cash she’d hidden in her room, a couple of the silicon straws she used and grabbed as many of the small recording discs from the bug in Bobby’s office that she could fit in her hand.  Stuffed them into the fanny pack, then pulled the tactical vest out of the bottom of the drawer where she’d hidden it.  Fastened it in place, then tugged a baggy sweatshirt over the vest.

It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could do in a small window of time.

Drawing in a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders.  Flushed the toilet in her bathroom, in case someone was waiting outside her door, then slid the privacy lock to the side and opened the door.  Fingers stood in front of the door, as if he was there to grab her in case she made a run for it.

He glanced at the sweatshirt.  “You cold?”

She nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m always cold after I eat.”

“Go on down,” Fingers said.  “Bobby’s in his office.”

Her stomach twisting, Celia walked down the stairs and toward Bobby’s office.  She knocked on his door and he called, “Come in.”

When she walked in, Bobby sat behind his desk.  Alice was stacking some boxes off to the side, and Nick was sitting in a chair against the wall.  She glanced at him, but instead of returning her gaze, he focused on Alice stacking the boxes.

No, she couldn’t count on Nick for help.

“Celia.”  Bobby looked up at her with his shark-like smile.  “I have a little job for you, Fingers and Nick.  It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Okay,” she said, curling her hands into her thighs.  “What do you need?”

“It’s an off-site job.  Fingers and Nick will tell you what to do.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Doyle,” Alice said.  “Nick was going to help me move these boxes tonight.  Could you find someone else to help Celia and Fingers?  These boxes need to go downstairs and I can’t carry them.”

Bobby stared at her for a long moment, then gave her a curt nod.  “Yeah.”  He turned to his son.  “Nicky, carry those boxes downstairs for Alice.”

Celia watched Nick hoist two boxes and follow Alice out of the room.

No.  She couldn’t count on Nick for help.  Whatever was going down tonight, Celia was on her own.