Chapter 2 - THE HOSPITAL AT TWO A.M.
The city at two in the morning looked different from the back seat of Victor Costello’s
armored sedan. Rain erased the neon signs into long red and gold streaks, and traffic lights
changed for empty intersections as if obeying a world no one could see. Sadi sat rigidly
beside Victor, both hands wrapped around the burner phone. Three black vehicles followed
behind them. Another had already gone ahead with Nico. None of the men shouted. No one waved
weapons. The silence was organized, disciplined, and far more terrifying than chaos.
Sadi had imagined many times what it might feel like to be trapped in a car with Victor
Costello. In those fantasies, she was usually being fired, questioned, or accused of seeing
something she should not have seen. She had never imagined him placing a clean handkerchief
across her cracked palms before telling the driver to go faster.
“You’re bleeding on the leather,” she said automatically. Victor looked at her as if the
sentence had offended him. “The leather will survive.” “My brother might not.” “He will if
my people reach him first.”
“You don’t know that.” “No.” Victor’s voice softened by a fraction. “I don’t.” That honesty
frightened her more than false reassurance would have. Sadi turned toward the window and
watched the towers slide past. She thought of Sam alone beneath fluorescent lights,
pretending not to be afraid. She thought of Declan’s hand on the bed rail. She thought of
the debt, of Mick’s smile when he had given her the money, and of how stupid she had been to
believe desperation could negotiate with men like him.
Victor’s phone rang. He answered on the first vibration. “Nico.” A voice spoke through the
car speakers. “I’m on the floor. Sam is secure. Declan was here, but he left ninety seconds
before we arrived.”
Sadi’s lungs finally worked again. A sound escaped her that was half sob, half laugh. “Any
staff compromised?” Victor asked. “One orderly took cash to look the other way. Security
camera looped for six minutes. I have names.”
“Stay with the boy.” Sadi reached toward the phone. “Can I talk to him?” Victor nodded. A
few seconds later Sam’s sleepy voice filled the car. “Sadi?” She broke. “I’m here.” “Why are
you crying?”
“I’m not.” “You sound like you swallowed a vacuum cleaner.” Victor looked out the opposite
window, giving her privacy without pretending he could not hear. Sam continued, “Some guy
came in and said he was checking my monitor. He had terrible shoes. Doctors don’t wear shoes
like that.”
Sadi pressed the handkerchief to her mouth. “Listen to me. There are people outside your
room now. They’re there to protect you.” “Who?” She looked at Victor. Victor took the phone.
“Victor Costello.”
Silence. Then Sam said, “The Victor Costello?” Sadi closed her eyes. Victor’s mouth almost
moved. Almost. “Depends what you’ve heard.” “I’ve heard my sister say your mansion has dust
under the west staircase.”
Sadi’s eyes flew open. For the first time, one of the men in the front seat made a strangled
sound that might have been a laugh. Victor turned to her slowly. “Has she?” Sam kept
talking. “She also said rich people own too many lamps.”
“Sam,” Sadi hissed. Victor handed the phone back. “Your brother is observant.” “He has no
survival instinct.” “That can be useful.” By the time they reached the hospital, the front
entrance was guarded by two city police officers who seemed confused by the sudden presence
of expensive cars and men in dark coats. Victor did not approach through the front. He led
Sadi through a service entrance, moving with the confidence of someone who understood every
building had a second door for people who mattered differently.
The oncology floor smelled exactly as it always did—sterile air, warmed blankets,
exhaustion. But tonight, two of Victor’s men stood at the elevator and another at the
nurses’ station. None of them looked at Sadi. They watched everything else.
Sadi ran to Sam’s room. He looked impossibly small beneath the blankets, his head covered by
a gray beanie, IV lines disappearing under the sleeve of his hospital gown. When he saw her,
his mouth lifted into a tired grin.
“Vacuum cleaner,” he said. She bent over him and held him carefully, terrified of tubes,
bruises, and bones too visible beneath his skin. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his
shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Everything, she thought. For not earning enough. For borrowing from Mick. For
allowing danger to learn Sam’s name. For every promise she had made that she could not keep.
Victor remained in the doorway. He did not enter until Sam noticed him.
“You’re taller than on the news,” Sam said. Sadi nearly fainted. Victor walked in. “And you
criticize footwear.” “Bad footwear is a moral failure.” This time Victor actually smiled.
The moment was so unexpected that Sadi almost forgot what kind of man stood beside her.
Almost.
Then Nico appeared at the door holding a tablet. His expression erased the softness from the
room. “We found Declan’s car.” Victor stepped into the hallway. Sadi followed despite his
glance telling her not to.
“Where?” “Abandoned three blocks south. Burner phone inside. He left one message queued for
Mick.” Nico turned the tablet so they could see. The message was a photograph of Sadi
entering the hospital beside Victor.
Under it: SHE’S WITH COSTELLO NOW. Sadi felt the blood drain from her face. Nico continued.
“Mick’s people have started asking questions about her. Where she sleeps. What bus she
takes. What shifts she works.”
Victor’s jaw tightened. “Move her things.” Sadi stiffened. “No.” Both men looked at her.
“I’m not moving into some safe house.” “You are not going home.” “I have a lease. I have a
life.” “You have a death threat.”
“I also have a brother in this hospital. I’m not disappearing.” Victor stepped closer,
lowering his voice. “Then don’t disappear.” Sadi frowned. “Stay where they can see you,” he
said. “Where touching you costs more than they can afford.”
“I don’t understand.” Victor looked through the window at Sam, then back at her. “Mick
survives because fear isolates people. He makes each victim believe no one powerful knows
their name.” Victor’s expression sharpened. “Tomorrow, the whole city will know yours.”
Sadi stared at him. “What are you planning?” Before he could answer, Victor’s phone rang
again. He looked at the screen. Mick O’Shea. Victor accepted the call and raised it to his
ear. Mick spoke long enough for Sadi to watch something cold settle behind Victor’s eyes.
Then Victor said, “No. We’re done making private deals.” He ended the call. “What did he
say?” Sadi asked. Victor slipped the phone into his pocket. “He invited me to negotiate.”
“And?” “I declined.”
“Why?” “Because tomorrow night is the Bellmore Foundation gala.” Sadi knew the event.
Everyone did. Politicians, judges, donors, business owners, cameras. The most powerful
people in the city under one roof. Victor looked at her with a certainty that made the
May you like
corridor seem suddenly too small. “You’re coming with me.”
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