Chapter 2 - The File Greg Died Protecting
Dr. Adrian Mercer arrived at Declan's penthouse at 1:52 a.m.
He came alone.
No ambulance.
No medical bag displaying a hospital logo.
Only a black leather case and the tired expression of a man who had spent fifteen years treating injuries for people whose names never appeared on insurance forms.
Sadie sat at the kitchen island wrapped in one of Declan's charcoal cashmere blankets.
Her wet clothes had been replaced with a white T-shirt and loose black sweatpants borrowed from a guest room wardrobe.
She looked smaller without her office clothes.
Younger.
More vulnerable.
Declan disliked noticing that.
He disliked even more how often his attention moved toward her.
Mercer examined the wound.
“Eight stitches.”
Sadie grimaced.
“Is that bad?”
“I've seen worse.”
Declan stood near the windows.
“That's not reassuring.”
Mercer gave him a dry look.
“I wasn't talking to you.”
Sadie almost laughed.
Almost.
It was the first sign she hadn't disappeared completely inside herself.
Mercer cleaned the wound and prepared the anesthetic.
When the needle appeared, Sadie's fingers tightened around the blanket.
Declan noticed.
“You afraid of needles?”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
“I'm allowed one character flaw.”
“You killed a man with industrial shears tonight.”
Mercer paused.
Sadie stared at Declan.
Declan realized what he'd said.
Sadie unexpectedly laughed.
It was short and horrified and half a sob.
Then she covered her face.
“I cannot believe this is my life.”
Mercer glanced between them.
“I'll pretend I didn't hear that.”
“Good idea,” Declan said.
After the stitches were finished, Mercer handed Sadie antibiotics and strict instructions.
“No lifting. Keep the wound dry. You may feel dizzy from shock. Eat something.”
Sadie nodded.
Mercer turned toward Declan.
“She's lucky.”
Declan's eyes flicked to Sadie.
“I know.”
When the doctor left, the penthouse became quiet again.
Sadie sat with a mug of tea between both hands.
Declan opened the folder.
He had already photographed every page.
Now he studied each one carefully.
The shipping schedules were genuine.
That was impossible.
Only six people had access to the complete routing system.
Declan was one.
Eamon was another.
The others were department heads who had worked with Declan for years.
Sadie watched him from across the island.
“What exactly did Greg steal?”
“Enough to collapse my company.”
“The legal part?”
Declan looked up.
Her eyebrow lifted.
“I'm not stupid.”
“No.”
“You'd have fired me years ago if I were.”
“That isn't why I hired you.”
“Why did you hire me?”
The question came so suddenly that Declan hesitated.
Sadie had interviewed three years earlier after the previous executive assistant quit without notice.
She had walked into his office wearing a cheap navy suit and carrying a folder full of references.
She had looked him directly in the eye.
No flirting.
No fear.
No attempts to impress.
When he asked why she wanted the job, she'd said, “Because you pay thirty percent above market and I have student loans.”
Declan had hired her ten minutes later.
“You were competent.”
“Romantic.”
His eyes narrowed.
Sadie flushed.
“I didn't mean—”
“I know.”
Silence returned.
Something had shifted.
Very slightly.
Declan turned back to the documents.
“These codes correspond to shipments.”
“Legal shipments?”
“Some.”
Sadie swallowed.
“And the others?”
“Things you shouldn't know.”
“I think we've passed that stage.”
Declan hated that she was right.
He spread the documents across the counter.
“Greg wasn't stealing randomly.”
“What do you mean?”
“He targeted twelve shipments.”
Sadie leaned closer.
“What do they have in common?”
Declan scanned them.
Different ports.
Different dates.
Different cargo.
Then he saw it.
“All were rerouted within twenty-four hours of departure.”
“By whom?”
Declan checked the authorization lines.
His jaw tightened.
“Eamon.”
Sadie's gaze moved toward the photograph.
“Your godfather.”
Declan had explained nothing.
But she had put it together.
“How long have you known him?”
“My entire life.”
“And you think he's betraying you?”
“I think paper can lie.”
Sadie pointed at Greg's photograph.
“Can photographs?”
“Everything can.”
She watched him.
“You don't want it to be true.”
Declan looked up.
“That isn't relevant.”
“It is to you.”
“No.”
“You do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn everything into logistics when you don't want to feel it.”
Declan stared at her.
Employees generally didn't analyze him.
Employees who did often stopped being employees.
Sadie seemed to realize what she'd said.
“Sorry.”
“No, you're not.”
“No.”
Another almost-smile threatened his mouth.
He suppressed it.
His phone vibrated.
A text.
Unknown number.
DECLAN. WE NEED TO TALK. COME ALONE. 9 P.M. PIER 17.
Sadie watched his expression.
“Tomorrow night?”
He turned the screen toward her.
Her face drained of color.
“You're not going.”
Declan blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“They literally told Greg that's where you'll die.”
“I noticed.”
“And you're still considering going?”
“I'm going.”
“That is insane.”
“It would be insane not to.”
Sadie pushed back from the island.
“Then why did I walk twenty blocks barefoot through the rain?”
“To warn me.”
“So listen.”
“I am listening.”
“You're not behaving like it.”
Declan looked at her for several seconds.
No one spoke to him this way.
Not anymore.
Yet he didn't feel angry.
He felt something more dangerous.
Seen.
“Pier Seventeen isn't just a meeting,” he said.
“What is it?”
“One of my primary distribution points.”
Sadie frowned.
“And someone wants you there alone.”
“Yes.”
“Which means the meeting itself isn't the point.”
Declan stopped.
Sadie looked down at the documents.
“If they wanted to kill you, they could try anywhere. Why specify a place you own?”
Declan's attention sharpened.
“Go on.”
“They want you somewhere connected to your company.”
Sadie moved one of the manifests.
“What happens at Pier Seventeen tomorrow?”
Declan thought.
A shipment from Rotterdam.
Scheduled arrival at 8:30 p.m.
The manifest listed automotive parts.
But the concealed cargo beneath them was worth nearly six million dollars.
More importantly, it belonged to people far more dangerous than Eamon.
Declan looked at Sadie.
“They don't just want me dead.”
“What do they want?”
“They want me blamed.”
“For what?”
“For stealing a shipment I was trusted to move.”
Sadie's face tightened.
“So whoever owns that shipment—”
“Would destroy everything I built.”
“And maybe you with it.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“Then we call the police.”
Declan laughed once.
Sadie frowned.
“That wasn't a joke.”
“Half the names in this folder are police.”
“Oh.”
“That is why Greg wasn't worried about getting caught.”
Declan collected the pages.
“There is only one way to find out how deep this goes.”
“How?”
“We let them believe I know nothing.”
Sadie shook her head.
“No.”
“Sadie—”
“No. Greg saw me. Whoever he worked for knows I saw him.”
“They don't know what you took.”
“They know I'm alive.”
Declan's silence confirmed it.
Sadie's eyes narrowed.
“You've already thought about hiding me.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“You'll leave before sunrise.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere no one can find you.”
Her face changed.
It surprised him.
Not relief.
Hurt.
“You're sending me away.”
“I'm keeping you alive.”
“You don't know who you can trust.”
“I trust myself.”
“You can't watch me and walk into a trap at the same time.”
Declan leaned forward.
“This is not a debate.”
Sadie stood.
“Then fire me.”
He stared.
“What?”
“If you're ordering me around as my employer, fire me.”
“Sadie.”
“Because if I'm no longer your employee, then I'm just the woman who saved your life tonight.”
“You don't know that.”
She slapped her palm against the folder.
“I brought you the proof.”
“And nearly died doing it.”
“Exactly.”
The room went silent.
Declan's phone vibrated again.
This time it was a secure alert.
Someone had accessed Hayes Logistics servers remotely.
He opened the system log.
An administrator account.
Eamon Pierce.
Declan's face hardened.
“What?”
Sadie moved beside him.
Declan showed her.
Eamon had just downloaded personnel files.
Not shipping data.
Personnel.
Sadie frowned.
“Why would he want employee records?”
Declan opened the request history.
One file had been accessed.
Only one.
SADIE COLLINS.
Her photograph appeared on the screen.
Home address.
Emergency contacts.
Social security number.
Everything.
Sadie stared at it.
Then another alert appeared.
The access location was not Eamon's home.
It was a private residence in Queens.
Declan knew the address.
Sadie did not.
But the blood drained from his face anyway.
“What is it?” she asked.
Declan looked at her.
“That's your mother's address.”
Sadie froze.
“My mother lives alone.”
Declan was already reaching for his coat.
May you like
“Not tonight she doesn't.”
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