Chapter 1 - The Five-Dollar Contract
Ivy Callahan had been told that dangerous men were supposed to look frightening.
She expected scars. Maybe a gun hanging where everyone could see it. Maybe the kind of face villains had in the old movies her mother sometimes watched after Ivy was supposed to be asleep.
Andrew Mercer looked nothing like that.
That was what made him worse.
He stepped out of the restaurant on Atlantic Avenue shortly after sunset wearing a black coat that probably cost more than everything Ivy owned. His dark hair was pushed back carelessly, and two men followed several feet behind him without needing to be told where to stand.
People moved around Andrew.
Not with him.
Around him.
A waiter opening the restaurant door lowered his eyes.
A man smoking beside the curb suddenly decided he needed to cross the street.
Even the driver waiting beside the polished Mercedes straightened when Andrew appeared.
Ivy's fingers tightened around the wrinkled five-dollar bill in her pocket.
It was all the money she had.
Mrs. Elellanar, who owned the little corner store three blocks from Ivy's apartment, had once told her that Andrew Mercer was the most dangerous man in Brooklyn.
Then she had leaned across the counter and added something Ivy remembered much better.
Bad men were afraid of him.
That was why Ivy had come.
Her mother had been gone six days.
Six days of eating crackers in the apartment because Ivy couldn't reach the high cabinet where her mother kept the pasta.
Six days of sleeping with every light on.
Six days of jumping whenever tires slowed outside.
Before leaving, her mother had crouched in front of Ivy and held both sides of her face.
"Stay hidden," she had whispered.
Mom had looked frightened.
Ivy had never seen her frightened before.
"Don't open the door for anyone. Don't tell anyone where you are."
"Are you coming back?"
Her mother had tried to smile.
"Of course."
But she hadn't.
And Ivy had finally stopped believing the word of course.
Now Andrew Mercer was walking toward his car.
If Ivy waited another five seconds, he would leave.
Her heart hammered so hard it hurt.
She stepped off the sidewalk.
One of Andrew's men noticed immediately.
His shoulders changed.
Ivy almost turned around.
Then she remembered her mother's face.
She ran.
"Mr. Mercer!"
Andrew stopped.
The two men behind him moved at the same time.
Ivy reached Andrew before anyone could stop her and shoved the five-dollar bill toward his hand.
"Please save my mommy."
The street seemed to become strangely quiet.
Andrew looked down.
First at the money.
Then at her.
Ivy knew she looked terrible.
Her yellow jacket had a stain near one sleeve. Her ponytails were uneven because she had done them herself. Her pink backpack was hanging from one shoulder, and the little stuffed bear clipped to it had lost one button eye.
She held the five dollars higher.
Andrew didn't take it.
Behind him, both men slid their hands toward the inside of their jackets.
Ivy saw.
Her breath caught.
She stepped backward.
Andrew raised two fingers.
That was all.
His men stopped instantly.
Andrew studied Ivy for another second.
Then the most frightening man in Brooklyn did something she hadn't expected.
He crouched.
Suddenly they were almost the same height.
"What's your name?"
"Ivy."
"How old are you, Ivy?"
"Seven."
His expression tightened.
"Where's your father?"
"I don't have one."
That wasn't completely true.
Ivy had once asked her mother about him.
Her mother had stared at the kitchen sink for a long time before saying, "Some people leave before they learn how much they're needed."
Ivy had understood that meant she wasn't supposed to ask again.
Andrew glanced toward his men.
One of them—broad shoulders, gray beginning at his temples—looked away as though the conversation had suddenly become private.
Andrew returned his attention to Ivy.
"You said someone took your mother."
Ivy nodded.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"What happened?"
Her mouth trembled.
She hated that.
She wanted Andrew to think she was brave.
"Three men came."
"When?"
"Six sleeps ago."
"Six days?"
She nodded.
"They told Mommy she had to go with them."
"Why?"
"They said she had to sign papers."
"What papers?"
"I don't know."
Ivy looked down at the money still trapped between her fingers.
"They said she had to become somebody's bride."
For the first time, Andrew's expression changed.
Not much.
But enough.
His eyes sharpened.
"And if she refused?"
Ivy swallowed.
"They said they'd hurt me."
The older bodyguard muttered something under his breath.
Andrew's voice became softer.
"Where have you been staying?"
"Home."
"Alone?"
Ivy didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Andrew turned his head.
"Marco."
The older man immediately stepped forward.
"Get someone to her apartment. Quietly. Check whether it's been watched."
Marco nodded and walked away while already pulling out his phone.
Ivy watched him.
"Are you calling the police?"
"No."
"Why?"
Andrew's gaze returned to her.
"Because you didn't come looking for the police."
"I tried."
That stopped him.
"You tried?"
"The first day."
"What happened?"
"They asked where my mommy was. I told them I didn't know."
"And?"
"They said they needed an adult."
Andrew's jaw hardened.
"Mrs. Elellanar told me not to go back."
"Who is Mrs. Elellanar?"
"The lady from the corner store."
"She sent you to me?"
"No."
Ivy shook her head quickly.
"She said you're dangerous."
The younger bodyguard almost smiled.
Andrew didn't.
"That's not usually a recommendation."
"She said bad men are afraid of you."
Something flickered behind Andrew's eyes.
Maybe amusement.
Maybe something else.
"So you decided to find a dangerous man."
"To stop worse men."
This time the younger bodyguard definitely looked away to hide a smile.
Andrew held out his hand.
"Tell me everything."
Ivy finally lowered the five dollars.
She began with her mother's job.
Ashwood Nursing Home.
Fourth floor.
Her mother worked night shifts because the pay was better and because it meant she could walk Ivy to school every morning.
A few weeks earlier, Ivy had overheard her mother arguing on the phone with somebody from work.
Something about a patient.
Something about too much medicine.
Andrew's expression sharpened again.
"What patient?"
"I don't know."
"Was he old?"
"No."
"Did your mother ever tell you his name?"
Ivy frowned.
She tried to remember.
Her mother had been frightened that night.
She had paced between the kitchen table and window while speaking quietly to a friend.
Ivy had been coloring at the table and pretending not to listen.
There had been something about a man waking up.
A man grabbing her mother's wrist.
A man asking for help.
Andrew seemed to sense the memory forming.
He didn't rush her.
Instead, he waited.
It was the first time in six days anyone had waited for Ivy to find the right words.
"Mommy said they were making him sleep."
"Who?"
"People at the nursing home."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"She said she gave him less medicine one night."
Andrew became perfectly still.
"And he woke up?"
Ivy nodded.
"What did he say?"
She opened her eyes.
"He told Mommy they were killing him slowly."
The younger bodyguard no longer looked amused.
Andrew's face had lost all softness.
"Did he give your mother his name?"
"Yes."
"What was it?"
Ivy searched her memory again.
She remembered her mother's voice through the kitchen doorway.
Daniel.
A simple name.
She remembered another word too.
A last name.
At the time it hadn't meant anything.
Now she looked into Andrew Mercer's eyes.
"Daniel Mercer."
The city continued around them.
Cars passed.
Someone laughed half a block away.
A bus hissed to a stop.
But Andrew didn't move.
Didn't blink.
For one terrifying second, Ivy wondered whether she had said something wrong.
Then the younger bodyguard whispered:
"Boss?"
Andrew slowly stood.
His face had gone pale.
"Say the name again."
"Daniel Mercer."
Andrew stared at her as though the seven-year-old girl standing on the wet sidewalk had just opened a grave.
Because she had.
Daniel Mercer was Andrew's younger brother.
And Andrew had buried an empty coffin for him nine years earlier.
Ivy couldn't understand why the frightening man suddenly looked less dangerous.
She only understood what she saw.
Pain.
Old pain.
The kind her mother sometimes carried when she thought Ivy wasn't watching.
Andrew turned toward his men.
The softness vanished.
"Call everyone."
The younger bodyguard straightened.
"Everyone?"
"Everyone."
Ivy tugged Andrew's coat.
He looked down.
"You forgot something."
She lifted the five-dollar bill again.
Andrew stared at it.
"You have to take it."
"Why?"
"Because I'm hiring you."
The younger bodyguard coughed into his fist.
Ivy continued seriously.
"Mrs. Elellanar says if you pay someone, they have to finish the job."
For several seconds, Andrew Mercer said nothing.
Then he carefully took the crumpled bill.
"So we have a contract?" Ivy asked.
Andrew looked at her.
"Yes."
"Promise?"
His jaw tightened.
"Promise."
Ivy smiled for the first time in almost a week.
But Andrew was no longer looking at her.
He was staring at the bill.
More precisely, at its back.
Something had been written there.
Thin letters.
Shaky.
Red.
Before he could unfold it completely, Ivy's smile disappeared.
Across the street, a black SUV had pulled to the curb.
She recognized the shape.
The tinted windows.
The dent near the rear wheel.
Her fingers wrapped around Andrew's hand.
"That's them."
Andrew slowly lifted his eyes.
The SUV's headlights went dark.
Then the rear door opened.
May you like
And a man stepped onto the sidewalk holding Ivy's mother's yellow scarf.
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