Chapter 1 - THE BLACK SUV
The black SUV did not move for thirty-seven seconds.
I counted every one.
Standing in the frozen-food aisle with a carton of milk in one hand, I watched its dark windows through the grocery store glass while my heart pounded so hard I could feel it against the curve of my stomach.
Seventeen weeks pregnant.
Fourteen weeks hidden.
And suddenly every mile between Chicago and North Carolina felt useless.
“Claire?”
The cashier’s voice made me flinch.
I turned.
Mrs. Talbot held up my bag of apples.
“You all right, honey?”
“Fine.”
The lie came automatically.
Outside, the SUV remained at the curb.
No driver visible.
No headlights.
Nothing.
My hand slid beneath my coat and covered the baby.
I had learned survival quickly.
Never take the same route twice.
Never use my real credit card.
Never post photographs.
Never call friends who could be watched.
Never look frightened when I was terrified.
I abandoned my groceries and walked toward the rear employee exit.
The manager shouted after me.
I ignored him.
Cold mountain air struck my face as I stepped into the alley.
Then I heard a car door close.
Not behind me.
Ahead.
A man stood beside another vehicle at the mouth of the alley.
Tall.
Dark coat.
Close-cropped hair.
I knew him.
Gavin Roarke.
Declan’s security chief.
My knees almost failed.
“Amelia.”
I backed away.
“Don’t.”
His hands remained visible.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
“That’s what men like you say before doing exactly that.”
Something changed in his expression.
“You’re pregnant.”
My stomach dropped.
My coat was loose, but not loose enough.
Gavin stared at my belly.
Then at my face.
“Does Declan know?”
I said nothing.
His face went pale.
“He doesn’t.”
That frightened me more than if he had smiled.
I turned to run.
“Amelia, wait.”
I stopped because of his next words.
“I didn’t tell him where you are.”
Slowly, I looked back.
“What?”
“Not yet.”
“You found me.”
“Yes.”
“Declan ordered you to find me.”
“Yes.”
“So why are you standing here instead of dragging me into that SUV?”
Gavin glanced toward the street.
“Because I found something else first.”
He removed a phone from his coat.
One photograph filled the screen.
Savannah Calloway.
Entering Voss Tower.
Beside her father.
And behind them stood a man I recognized from Chicago news reports.
Patrick Voss.
Declan’s uncle.
The man who had supposedly retired from family business years earlier.
“What am I looking at?”
“The reason Declan announced that engagement.”
My throat tightened.
“Political alliance?”
“No.”
Gavin’s voice lowered.
“Hostage negotiation.”
I stared at him.
He continued.
“Three days before you disappeared, Patrick Voss stole something from Declan.”
“What?”
“A ledger containing names, offshore accounts, judges, police officers, contractors, every hidden financial connection the Voss family has built over twenty years.”
“And Savannah?”
“Her father has it.”
My anger rose.
“So Declan agreed to marry her to get it back.”
“Yes.”
I laughed bitterly.
“How romantic.”
“Amelia, there’s more.”
Of course there was.
There was always more.
Gavin looked directly at me.
“Declan never intended to marry Savannah.”
“Then why announce it on television?”
“To make the Calloways believe he would.”
“And me?”
His expression tightened.
“What about you?”
“I heard him say I’d be ‘resolved quietly.’”
Gavin closed his eyes briefly.
Then cursed.
“What?”
“You left before he finished the sentence.”
My entire body went cold.
“What did he say?”
Gavin answered carefully.
“Declan said, ‘Amelia is civilian. She’ll be resolved quietly before any of this touches her.’”
The alley seemed to tilt.
I had heard half the sentence.
Half.
But Gavin was not done.
“He ordered me to prepare a safe apartment for you that night.”
My breath caught.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because Calloway had people watching his phones.”
I shook my head.
“No. Declan could have found a way.”
“Yes.”
Gavin did not defend him.
“He could have.”
That honesty hurt more.
Then the baby moved.
Not a kick exactly.
A flutter.
I pressed my hand to my stomach.
Gavin saw.
His eyes widened.
“How far?”
“Seventeen weeks.”
He calculated.
His face changed completely.
“Oh, hell.”
I stepped backward.
“You are not telling him.”
“Amelia—”
“No.”
“He has been destroying Chicago looking for you.”
“That isn’t love. That’s control.”
“He thinks Calloway took you.”
“He can keep thinking that.”
Gavin looked toward the SUV.
Then pulled a small card from his pocket.
A phone number.
“If you need help, call this.”
I did not take it.
He placed it on a crate.
“I’ll give you forty-eight hours.”
“To do what?”
“To decide whether you want Declan to know you’re alive.”
“And after that?”
Gavin’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t know.”
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
“There is one thing you should know before you decide.”
“What?”
“Savannah found out Declan was searching for someone.”
My blood chilled.
“Me?”
“She doesn’t know your name.”
“Yet.”
“No.”
Gavin opened the SUV door.
“But yesterday she asked why Declan’s private doctor had requested records from Northwestern Memorial’s obstetrics department.”
Every drop of blood seemed to leave my face.
I had used my real name at the hospital.
Gavin looked toward my stomach.
“If Savannah finds those records before Declan does, she won’t just learn you exist.”
May you like
His voice became grim.
“She’ll know Declan Voss has an unborn child.”
