Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN WHO WASN'T AFRAID
Dwayne did not look toward the detectives.
He looked at Addison.
“You’re remarkably confident for someone sitting beside a man who could make you disappear before dessert.”
It was a threat.
Also a test.
Addison lifted her wineglass.
“No, Mr. Cross.”
Her voice remained calm.
“You could make a body disappear. That’s different.”
Simon stopped chewing.
Dwayne’s expression did not change, but something dangerous sharpened behind his eyes.
“Explain.”
“A body is simple. A person leaves records.”
She set down the glass.
“Payroll. Security footage. Credit cards. Tax filings. Emails. Medical appointments. Phone towers. People who saw her walk into a restaurant with a mafia boss.”
Her gaze flicked toward the four plainclothes detectives.
“Making me disappear would be extremely inconvenient.”
Dwayne almost smiled.
“You prepared for this.”
“I prepare for everything.”
“For how long?”
“Two years.”
That answer cooled the amusement.
Simon leaned forward.
“Boss, this is insane. Fire her.”
Addison finally looked at him.
“Simon, if Dwayne fires me tomorrow, the Department of Labor receives copies of payroll fraud from seven Cross-controlled companies.”
Simon’s face changed.
Dwayne remained still.
“And if I don’t?”
“Nothing happens.”
“That sounds like blackmail.”
“It’s insurance.”
Dwayne slowly leaned back.
“Against me?”
“Against everyone.”
The waiter approached.
Nobody spoke until he retreated.
Then Dwayne asked the question that had been pressing harder with every sentence.
“Why work for me?”
Addison’s expression shifted.
Tiny.
But he saw it.
“You had other options.”
“Yes.”
“You’re educated.”
“Yes.”
“You understand forensic accounting.”
“Yes.”
“So why spend two years making coffee for a criminal?”
For the first time that night, Addison’s composure cracked.
Not fear.
Grief.
She opened her clutch.
Removed an old photograph.
A young man stood beside a loading dock wearing a reflective vest and an easy smile.
“My brother.”
Dwayne’s jaw tightened.
“What happened to him?”
“He worked Pier Nine.”
Dwayne knew Pier Nine.
One of his.
Addison placed the photograph between them.
“Three years ago, Nathan Lynwood disappeared during the night shift.”
Simon looked down.
Dwayne did not.
Addison’s voice became quiet.
“Police said he probably ran away.”
“He didn’t?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
She looked directly at Dwayne.
“Because the last call Nathan ever made was to me.”
Her fingers tightened around the photograph.
“He said two words before the line went dead.”
Dwayne already knew he would hate them.
“What words?”
May you like
Addison answered:
“Cross Logistics.”
