Chapter 2 - THE MAN IN THE GARAGE
Nico reached across the seat before Sienna understood why.
His hand closed around the back of her neck and pulled her down.
A second later, the rear window cracked.
Not shattered.
The armored glass held.
Marco shouted something from outside.
The SUV lurched forward.
Sienna found herself half across Nico’s lap, one palm pressed against his chest.
Again.
Of course.
Because apparently humiliation had decided to become a recurring theme in her life.
She looked up.
“You know, this is getting repetitive.”
Nico’s hand remained at the back of her neck.
“Stay down.”
“Very romantic.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Nothing about this is romantic.”
“Good. I’d hate to misunderstand being shot at.”
Another sharp impact struck the rear panel.
The driver accelerated up the garage ramp.
Marco’s SUV followed behind.
Only when they were three blocks away did Nico let her sit upright.
Sienna immediately checked her apron.
Still there.
Still ridiculous.
Still missing one shoe.
She looked down at her bare left foot.
“Fantastic.”
Nico glanced over.
“What?”
“I lost a shoe.”
He stared at her.
“You were almost shot.”
“And now I’m almost shot and barefoot.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
She pointed.
“There. Again.”
“No.”
“You keep almost smiling.”
“You keep almost dying.”
“That seems unrelated.”
His expression hardened, but she had seen it.
Again.
Then he opened his palm.
The black card lay there.
Tiny silver numbers were etched across one side.
No magnetic strip.
No chip.
Nothing resembling a bank card.
“What is it?” Sienna asked.
Nico turned it over.
“Access key.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know.”
“That sounds reassuring.”
“It isn’t.”
He pulled out his phone.
“Marco.”
The call connected immediately.
“Garage shooter?”
Marco’s voice came through the speaker.
“Gone. Security got the plate, but it was stolen.”
“Vesper?”
“Contained. Tessa’s safe. Staff are being moved out through the service lot.”
Sienna leaned toward the phone.
“Tessa?”
Marco heard her.
“She’s okay.”
“Tell her not to touch my purse.”
There was a pause.
Marco said, “That’s your concern?”
“She steals gum.”
Nico closed his eyes briefly.
Marco almost laughed.
Then his tone changed.
“Elliot Crane’s car.”
Nico looked toward the dark windows.
“What about it?”
“Blood was his.”
Sienna stopped breathing.
Marco continued.
“But there was no body.”
Nico’s gaze sharpened.
“Hospital?”
“Nothing.”
“Cameras?”
“Traffic team is pulling them.”
Nico looked at the card.
“Find out what this accesses.”
“Already working.”
The call ended.
Sienna stared at Nico.
“Where are we going?”
“My house.”
“No.”
His head turned slowly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m not going to your house.”
“Why?”
“Because I met you twenty minutes ago.”
“You work in my restaurant.”
“That is not the same as knowing you.”
“You were just shot at.”
“So your solution is kidnapping with leather seats?”
“I asked you to get into the SUV.”
“After carrying me like a rolled carpet.”
“You were in danger.”
“I am still deeply opposed to your methods.”
Nico regarded her for a moment.
Then, unexpectedly, he said, “Fair.”
That shut her up.
He continued.
“My house is secure. You can leave if you want. But until I know why Crane put that card in your apron, anyone connected to him may assume you know what he knew.”
Sienna looked at the black card.
That was annoyingly reasonable.
“Fine.”
Nico nodded.
“But I want Tessa brought somewhere safe too.”
“She already is.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I gave the order before we left.”
Sienna stared.
“You think of everything?”
“No.”
His voice changed slightly.
“If I did, you wouldn’t have been standing in that corridor.”
Something about that answer stripped the humor from her.
He blamed himself.
For a woman he barely knew.
She looked away.
“Still not calling you heroic.”
“I’ll survive.”
They arrived at a limestone mansion in Lincoln Park forty minutes later.
Not flashy.
Worse.
Old money quiet.
Tall iron gates.
Security cameras built into stone.
Men at the entrance who did not need to display weapons for Sienna to know they had them.
Nico entered first.
She followed.
Her stockinged foot slid slightly on polished marble.
A gray-haired woman approached from the hallway.
“Mr. Valente.”
“Mrs. Russo, this is Sienna Brooks.”
The woman took one look at Sienna’s missing shoe, loose curls, and stained apron.
Then at Nico.
Her expression became fascinating.
Sienna lifted one hand.
“It’s less interesting than it looks.”
Nico said, “Someone fired at her.”
Mrs. Russo’s face changed immediately.
“Come with me, sweetheart.”
Sienna looked at Nico.
“See? She’s nicer.”
“She doesn’t know you yet.”
Mrs. Russo actually laughed.
Nico walked away.
Sienna watched him go.
“Does he always act like that?”
Mrs. Russo looked fondly toward the corridor.
“Like what?”
“Like the building signed a confidentiality agreement with him?”
“For the last ten years.”
That number caught Sienna’s attention.
“Ten?”
Before Mrs. Russo could answer, Marco entered through the front door.
He carried Sienna’s shoe.
She gasped.
“My hero.”
Marco bowed.
“I found it under a table.”
Nico appeared again from the study.
“You’re praising him for retrieving footwear.”
“He understands priorities.”
Marco handed it over.
Then his expression became serious.
“We identified the garage shooter.”
Nico stopped.
“Who?”
Marco held up his phone.
A security photograph filled the screen.
The man was middle-aged.
Heavy coat.
Baseball cap.
Sienna squinted.
She knew that face.
“Wait.”
Nico looked at her.
“What?”
“I’ve served him.”
“When?”
“At Vesper. Three times, maybe four.”
“Name?”
“I don’t know. He always paid cash.”
Marco enlarged the image.
Sienna pointed.
“He sat at table fourteen.”
Nico’s gaze shifted.
Table fourteen sat against the west wall.
Direct sightline to the office corridor.
“How long has he been coming?”
“About two months.”
Marco frowned.
“Watching Crane?”
“Maybe,” Sienna said.
Nico looked at her.
“Or you.”
She laughed.
Then realized he wasn’t joking.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Marco turned his phone around.
“I wish it were.”
A second image appeared.
Same man.
Different night.
Standing across the street from Vesper.
Sienna leaving after her shift.
He was looking directly at her.
Her stomach tightened.
Nico’s voice became quiet.
“How many nights?”
Marco swiped.
Another.
And another.
And another.
Six photographs.
Different dates.
Always Sienna.
Always the same man nearby.
She sat down.
“Why?”
Nobody answered.
Then Nico placed the black card on the table.
Marco had brought a small reader.
He inserted it.
A string of numbers appeared on the laptop.
Not account numbers.
Coordinates.
Three locations.
One in Cicero.
One near the Calumet River.
One at the old Union Freight terminal.
Nico became still.
Marco whispered, “Those are Valente warehouses.”
“All three?” Sienna asked.
“Yes.”
“What’s special about them?”
Nico looked at the final coordinate.
“Nothing.”
Marco shook his head.
“Not anymore.”
Sienna caught the wording.
“Anymore?”
The room went quiet.
Nico glanced at him.
Marco spoke carefully.
“Eight years ago, those three properties were used for temporary storage during the dock consolidation.”
Sienna frowned.
“That means nothing to me.”
Nico’s jaw hardened.
“It means they were under my father’s control.”
“Was?”
“My father died seven years ago.”
There was something in his voice that warned against sympathy.
Sienna did not offer any.
Instead she pointed at the coordinates.
“Why would Elliot Crane carry access information for warehouses your dead father controlled?”
Marco typed again.
A fourth field unlocked.
One line appeared.
ACCOUNT: BELLADONNA.
Nico’s expression changed.
Not much.
Enough.
Sienna noticed.
“What is Belladonna?”
Marco looked at Nico.
Nico answered.
“My mother’s favorite flower.”
Sienna waited.
“And?”
“My mother died when I was fifteen.”
The room became colder.
Marco clicked the line.
A ledger opened.
Shipment dates.
Truck numbers.
Union locals.
Container identifiers.
Payments.
Millions.
Some records went back more than twenty years.
Sienna leaned forward.
“What am I looking at?”
Nico said nothing.
Marco scrolled.
Then stopped.
At the bottom was a recent entry.
Three days old.
AUTHORIZED BY: E. CRANE.
DESTINATION: VESPER.
Sienna’s chest tightened.
“Your accountant sent something to the restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Marco opened the manifest.
The item description contained only two words.
PERSONAL EFFECTS.
Sienna stared.
“Whose?”
The system required another code.
Marco looked at the black card.
“There should be something else.”
Sienna frowned.
“Something else where?”
Then she remembered Elliot bumping into her.
His hand grabbing her arm.
His other hand brushing her apron.
Not once.
Twice.
She reached into the larger center pocket.
Her fingers found fabric.
A receipt.
A wine key.
Two pens.
And something cold.
She pulled out a small brass key.
Nico took one look.
His face went hard.
Marco whispered, “No.”
“What?”
Neither answered.
Sienna looked between them.
“What does it open?”
Nico stared at the key.
May you like
Then at her.
“My mother’s storage locker.”
