Chapter 7 - The Boss Who Stood Up
Dominique should not have been there.
That was Bridget’s first thought.
Her second was that he should not have been standing.
He leaned against the doorway, pale beneath the apartment’s emergency light, one hand gripping the frame.
The other held a pistol.
His arm was steadier than Bridget expected.
Not steady enough.
Adrian stared.
“You can walk.”
Dominique’s mouth curved.
“Disappointed?”
“You should be dead.”
“People keep saying that.”
Bridget climbed to her feet.
“Dominique.”
He looked at her.
That was his mistake.
Adrian lunged.
Dominique fired.
The bullet struck the wall.
Adrian disappeared into the hallway.
Gabriel’s voice shouted from the stairwell.
“Down!”
More gunfire.
Bridget reached Dominique before his knees buckled.
“You idiot.”
“Good to see you too.”
“You left a cardiac unit.”
“Technicality.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I am standing.”
“On me.”
“Details.”
Despite terror, she laughed.
It surprised both of them.
Then his body sagged.
“Dominique.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are the worst liar I have ever met.”
“Adrian’s worse.”
Federal agents rushed in.
Grant followed.
Her face was furious.
“Who killed the power?”
One agent answered.
“Internal breach. Someone disabled our relay.”
“Adrian?”
“No. Remote.”
Grant looked at Bridget.
“Where’s the vial?”
Bridget pointed.
Broken glass.
Liquid spread across the floor.
Grant cursed.
“Our confession recording?”
“Disabled.”
“Of course.”
Dominique sank into a chair.
Gabriel entered.
The moment he saw his brother, his expression turned murderous.
“You left the hospital.”
Dominique closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“You walked out.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t walk.”
“Apparently I can.”
Gabriel looked at Bridget.
“How?”
“I have no idea.”
Eleanor later explained it.
The poison had interfered with nerve conduction as well as cardiac function.
Once levels began falling, some strength returned faster than expected.
It did not mean Dominique was healed.
Far from it.
His heart was damaged.
His muscles had wasted.
His balance was poor.
But he was no longer trapped inside his own body.
By dawn, Dominique was back in a secure medical suite.
Bridget sat beside the window.
He slept.
For once, peacefully.
Gabriel stood near the door.
“He came because of you.”
Bridget looked at him.
“He came because Adrian was here.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I tried to stop him.”
She looked back at Dominique.
Gabriel continued.
“He heard Grant’s surveillance feed cut out. He ripped off his monitor leads and tried to walk.”
“That sounds stupid.”
“It was.”
“Runs in the family?”
Gabriel smiled.
“Yes.”
Bridget’s smile faded.
“He could have died.”
“He knew.”
That frightened her more.
She rose.
“I should go.”
“Why?”
“Because this is getting complicated.”
Gabriel glanced at his sleeping brother.
“It was complicated before you found the vial.”
“Not like this.”
“Ah.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know.”
“No.”
Gabriel wisely changed the subject.
“Grant wants to move Dominique.”
“Where?”
“Safe house.”
“Can Adrian find it?”
“Probably.”
“Then it isn’t safe.”
“Exactly.”
Bridget paced.
“What does Dominique want?”
“To go home.”
“That’s insane.”
“He says the house is more secure.”
“Is it?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“If we clean it first.”
“Clean it?”
“Staff. Cameras. Food. Medicine. Everyone vetted.”
Bridget looked at him.
“You need somebody nobody notices.”
Gabriel smiled.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
By afternoon, Bridget returned to the Costello estate.
It was not a palace.
That surprised people.
Dominique lived in a large modern house overlooking the Hudson, elegant but restrained.
Bridget knew every closet.
Every service entrance.
Every staff habit.
That made her more useful than twenty armed guards.
She changed every cleaning supply.
Checked every medicine cabinet.
Replaced bottled water.
Discarded food with broken seals.
She reviewed staff schedules.
One pattern emerged.
On every day Dominique suffered a major decline, one person had worked.
Lena Morris.
Kitchen assistant.
Quiet.
Twenty-four.
Recently hired.
Bridget found her in the pantry.
“Lena.”
The young woman jumped.
“Hey.”
“Can we talk?”
Lena’s face changed.
“I’m busy.”
“So am I.”
Bridget closed the pantry door.
“Who hired you?”
“Mr. Mercer.”
“Directly?”
“No. Agency.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t remember.”
Bridget stared.
“You don’t remember the company that employed you?”
Lena’s eyes filled.
“I need to go.”
Bridget stepped aside.
“I’m not stopping you.”
Lena did not move.
That told Bridget everything.
“Who threatened you?”
Lena began crying.
Bridget’s anger disappeared.
“Hey.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“They said it was vitamins.”
Bridget’s stomach tightened.
“What did you do?”
Lena covered her face.
“They gave me drops.”
“For his food?”
“Coffee.”
“How often?”
“Twice a week.”
“Who gave them to you?”
“A man.”
“Name.”
“I never knew.”
“Describe him.”
Lena shook her head frantically.
“They said they’d hurt my brother.”
“Where is your brother?”
“Prison.”
Bridget frowned.
“Which prison?”
“Green Haven.”
She knew immediately.
“Someone promised protection.”
Lena nodded.
“Adrian?”
“I don’t know.”
Bridget believed her.
She called Gabriel.
Within an hour, Lena and her younger brother were placed under federal protection.
More importantly, Lena remembered one detail.
The man who delivered the drops wore a signet ring.
Silver.
Black stone.
A bird etched into it.
Gabriel brought out old family photographs.
Bridget went through them with Lena.
She stopped at one.
“That ring.”
The man in the photograph was standing beside Salvatore Costello.
Younger.
Thin.
Smiling.
Bridget looked at Gabriel.
“Who is he?”
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“Sebastian Vane.”
“Alive?”
“Very.”
“What does he do?”
“Runs three shipping companies, two casinos, and half the legitimate waterfront.”
“Vesper?”
“Maybe.”
Dominique, sitting nearby with a cane beside him, spoke.
“No.”
Bridget turned.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the ring?”
Dominique’s expression darkened.
“Vesper membership.”
The room went quiet.
Gabriel stared at him.
“You knew there was a ring?”
“I’ve seen Father’s.”
Bridget looked toward the door.
Salvatore had said Vesper was a structure.
Not a man.
“How many members?”
Dominique shook his head.
“Unknown.”
“Adrian?”
“He never wore one.”
“Meaning he wasn’t a member?”
“Or he hid it.”
Bridget remembered her father’s records.
The initials.
M.V.
A.M.
S.C.
G.C.
“G.C.”
Gabriel looked at her.
She looked at Dominique.
“Your brother.”
Gabriel’s face changed.
“What?”
“The ledger had G.C.”
“That proves nothing.”
Dominique stared at him.
Gabriel laughed.
“Seriously?”
Nobody spoke.
He looked from one face to another.
“You think I’m Vesper?”
Dominique said quietly, “No.”
“But?”
“But we need to know why Thomas wrote your initials.”
Gabriel stepped back.
“Unbelievable.”
He walked out.
Bridget started after him.
Dominique stopped her.
“Let him go.”
“He’s angry.”
“He’s hurt.”
“Same difference?”
“No.”
Dominique looked toward the doorway.
“I accused him once. Years ago.”
“Of being involved?”
“Yes.”
“That’s why he left.”
Dominique nodded.
Bridget understood.
The initials had reopened the deepest wound in the family.
That night, Dominique insisted on sleeping in his own bedroom.
Bridget checked everything first.
Bedside table.
Water.
Medication.
Bathroom.
Window locks.
He watched from a chair.
“You always this thorough?”
“When somebody keeps trying to kill my employer?”
“I’m still your employer?”
She looked at him.
“Do you want to be?”
His expression shifted.
The air changed.
Bridget looked away first.
“I mean professionally.”
“Of course.”
He sounded disappointed.
That made it worse.
She walked toward the bathroom.
Then stopped.
On the mirror was a symbol.
A bird.
Drawn in black.
Bridget stared.
It had not been there that afternoon.
Dominique rose with difficulty.
“What?”
She pointed.
Beneath the bird were three words.
SHE DIES FIRST.
Dominique’s face became ice.
Then Bridget noticed something else.
The bathroom window was open.
May you like
A curtain moved.
And from inside the dark closet behind them came the soft sound of breathing.
