Chapter 2 - The Man Who Ordered Her Capture Became the Only Person Standing Between Sadie and the Men Who Wanted Her DeadThe attack lasted less than two minutes.
It felt like twenty.
When the final shot stopped, the warehouse was silent except for the rain.
Grant remained crouched beside Sadie.
“You hurt?”
She shook her head.
He looked at her.
“Tell me.”
“My shoulder.”
He moved closer.
She flinched.
“Sorry.”
He stopped.
“Can I look?”
Sadie hesitated.
Then nodded.
He carefully moved the torn fabric of her sweater.
A small bullet graze marked the edge of her shoulder.
“Nothing serious.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
Grant looked toward the shattered window.
“Paul.”
The security chief entered.
“Two shooters.”
“Dead?”
“One.”
“Other?”
“Gone.”
Grant nodded.
“Find him.”
Paul hesitated.
“Already looking.”
Grant looked at Sadie.
“Get her somewhere safe.”
Paul stared.
“Where?”
“My house.”
Sadie immediately shook her head.
“No.”
Grant looked at her.
“You just got shot at.”
“And your house is safer?”
“Much.”
“I don't trust you.”
“You don't have to.”
“Then why should I go?”
Grant paused.
“Because whoever fired those bullets knows where you are.”
She looked toward the broken window.
That was enough.
They moved her through the underground tunnel beneath the warehouse.
Sadie discovered that Grant's version of “home” was a forty-story penthouse overlooking Central Park.
It was beautiful.
Cold.
Expensive.
And almost empty.
No family photographs.
No personal clutter.
No signs anyone actually lived there.
Grant noticed her looking.
“You expected something else?”
“I don't know.”
“What?”
“More.”
He almost smiled.
“So did I.”
A housekeeper appeared.
Mrs. Dalton had worked for Grant for fifteen years.
She looked at Sadie's bruised face and immediately understood something was wrong.
“Guest room?”
“Yes.”
“Medical treatment?”
“Bring Dr. Rosen.”
Mrs. Dalton disappeared.
Sadie looked at Grant.
“You have a doctor on call.”
“Usually.”
“That seems normal.”
“For my life.”
The doctor arrived twenty minutes later.
He examined Sadie's ribs.
One bruised rib.
Shoulder graze.
Facial swelling.
Nothing broken.
When he left, Grant stood in the doorway.
“You need rest.”
Sadie stared at him.
“Why are you being nice?”
He didn't answer.
She continued.
“Are you trying to convince me you're not a monster?”
Grant leaned against the frame.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I don't know.”
That honesty surprised her.
She looked away.
“I was supposed to go to work tomorrow.”
“What do you do?”
“Art restoration.”
“What kind?”
“Paintings.”
“Where?”
“Whitmore Gallery.”
Grant nodded.
“I know it.”
“Of course you do.”
“Do I?”
“You own half the building next door.”
Grant almost smiled.
“You investigated me.”
“No.”
“You just know?”
“Everyone knows.”
That silence contained something neither wanted to name.
Then Sadie said:
“My brother didn't steal your money.”
Grant's expression changed.
“What makes you sure?”
“Because Arthur hated criminals.”
“He worked for one.”
“He worked for you because he believed you were different.”
Grant stared.
“Different how?”
“He said you still had rules.”
The words hit him harder than expected.
“What else?”
“That you didn't hurt innocent people.”
Grant looked toward the bruises on her face.
Sadie noticed.
“Apparently your employees didn't get the memo.”
Grant looked away.
“You're right.”
She wasn't expecting that.
“Why did Arthur trust you?”
Grant answered slowly.
“Because years ago, I helped him when nobody else did.”
“How?”
“His father died in debt.”
“I didn't know.”
“He was seventeen.”
“And you paid his debts?”
“No.”
Grant sat down.
“I gave him a job.”
“That changed his life.”
“He changed mine.”
Sadie looked at him.
“He thought you had a conscience.”
Grant laughed softly.
“Your brother had a strange sense of humor.”
“He admired you.”
The sentence made Grant uncomfortable.
He had spent decades trying not to become a man worth admiring.
Yet Arthur had.
He pulled out the drive.
“What is actually on this?”
“I don't know.”
“Have you opened it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Arthur told me not to.”
Grant studied her.
“What did he say exactly?”
Sadie hesitated.
“He said, ‘If Grant Hale asks you what happened, tell him someone inside his empire is selling him piece by piece.’”
Grant went completely still.
“Piece by piece?”
“Yes.”
“That means information.”
She nodded.
“Schedules.”
“Addresses.”
“Accounts.”
“People.”
Grant stood.
His entire expression changed.
“Paul.”
Paul appeared instantly.
“Boss.”
“Cancel everything.”
“Everything?”
“Every shipment. Every private meeting. Every internal transfer.”
Paul stared.
“Why?”
“Because someone has been selling access to me.”
Paul understood immediately.
“And the girl?”
Grant looked at Sadie.
“She stays with me.”
Paul's eyes widened slightly.
Grant almost never repeated himself.
Sadie interrupted.
“I can speak for myself.”
Grant turned.
“Fine.”
She crossed her arms.
“I don't want to stay with you.”
“I know.”
“I don't want protection.”
“I know.”
“I definitely don't want your pity.”
“I don't pity you.”
“Then what?”
Grant looked directly at her.
“I don't know yet.”
Sadie stared.
Something about the answer disarmed her.
Before she could respond, her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Grant's hand moved toward his weapon.
Sadie answered.
“Hello?”
No one spoke.
Then a voice whispered:
“Your brother wasn't hiding from Grant.”
Sadie's face drained.
“He was hiding from you.”
The call ended.
Grant took the phone.
“Who was that?”
“I don't know.”
Her hands were shaking.
Grant looked at the number.
Blocked.
He called Paul.
“Trace it.”
“Working.”
Grant looked at Sadie.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
She closed her eyes.
Then something flashed.
“My brother asked me a strange question before he disappeared.”
“What?”
“If I knew where our mother kept Dad's paintings.”
Grant frowned.
“Your father was an artist?”
“No.”
“He collected paintings?”
“He restored them.”
Sadie stared at the floor.
“There was one painting he wouldn't let anyone touch.”
“What painting?”
“A portrait of a woman.”
“Who?”
“My mother.”
Grant went still.
“Where is it?”
Sadie swallowed.
“At Whitmore.”
Grant immediately reached for his phone.
“No.”
She stopped him.
“Why?”
“Because that's where I work.”
Grant stared.
“And someone just told you your brother was hiding from you.”
Sadie looked toward the windows.
For the first time, she seemed to understand.
The enemy wasn't hunting the drive.
They were hunting whatever Arthur had hidden inside her family history.
Grant spoke quietly.
“Tomorrow morning, nobody goes to Whitmore.”
Sadie frowned.
May you like
“Why?”
“Because we're going ourselves.”
Related Stories
