My husband stood beneath the chandeliers of the Grand Meridian Hotel

We burst through the ground-floor service exit into the rain-soaked alley behind the Grand Meridian. The cold air hit my face like an electric shock, reviving my exhausted limbs.

Lucas’s sedan was parked half a block away, idling in the shadows where he had instructed his trusted associate to keep it ready.

"Get in! Get in!" Lucas shoved Elena into the back seat, pushed me into the passenger side, and slid behind the steering wheel in a single, fluid motion. He threw the transmission into reverse, spun the wheel, and slammed the accelerator.

The tires shrieked against the wet cobblestones, launching the car forward just as two men in black tactical gear burst through the alley door, weapons raised. Bullets chipped the brickwork of the alley walls, but Lucas swung the car around the corner into the midday traffic before they could line up a shot.

Inside the car, Elena was hyperventilating, her face buried in her trembling hands.

"They're going to kill us," she sobbed. "Marcus has ties to the Syndicate in Chicago. They financed the harbor expansion. Christopher discovered they were laundering cartel money through the concrete contracts! That’s why they had to kill him!"

I turned around in my seat, glaring at her with cold fury. "And you knew this, Elena? You knew they were laundering cartel money, and you let Grayson sleep in my bed every night while plotting to take the rest of my father's shares?"

"I didn't know about the cartel until last week!" Elena screamed through her tears. "Grayson brought home a locked briefcase and told me if anything happened to him, I was to take the flash drive and run to Zurich! He told me Marcus had put a price on his own son's head! Marcus took out a twenty-million-dollar key-man life insurance policy on Grayson last month!"

The sheer monstrosity of Marcus Whitaker took my breath away. Marcus was ready to sacrifice his own son to cover his tracks and collect the insurance payout. Grayson hadn't been the architect of this nightmare; he had been the ultimate pawn, fattened for slaughter.

"Where is the bank, Elena?" Lucas asked, his voice low and steady as he monitored the rearview mirrors, weaving expertly through the crowded downtown streets.

"Pier 14. First Republic Bank, Harbor Branch," Elena choked out. "Safety deposit box 409. The key is hidden inside the false heel of my shoe—the one I left in the stairwell!"

Lucas slammed his fist against the steering wheel. "Damn it, Elena!"

"Wait!" Elena cried, pulling a thin platinum chain from around her neck. "I have the emergency bypass key! The bank manager is on Grayson’s payroll, he knows me! If I give him this token, he can open the dual-custody override without the original key!"

Lucas glanced at me. "The harbor branch is three miles away. If the Syndicate has already tapped Marcus's communications, they know about that box."