Chapter 2 - The Envelope
Elena stared at Damian.
"Moretti?"
"Yes."
"As in Moretti Shipping?"
"Among other things."
"As in the man the newspapers keep pretending is just a businessman?"
The corner of Damian's mouth moved.
His associate coughed to hide a laugh.
Damian handed Elena the envelope.
"This is yours."
She didn't take it.
"What is it?"
"Ten thousand dollars."
Elena blinked.
Then laughed once.
"No."
Damian's expression hardened.
"You haven't opened it."
"You just told me what's inside."
"You helped me."
"I gave you half a sandwich."
"You treated my arm."
"With six dollars of gauze."
"You stayed."
Elena looked at the two men beside him.
"Do people usually charge you ten grand for basic human decency?"
"They usually charge more."
"Then you know terrible people."
"I do."
Elena pushed the envelope back against his chest.
"I don't want it."
Damian seemed genuinely surprised.
"Your rent is late."
Her expression changed instantly.
"Don't."
"You have thirty-four dollars—"
"I said don't."
The alley became silent.
Elena stepped closer.
"You had someone investigate me because I gave you food?"
"I needed to know who you were."
"You know my bank balance."
"Yes."
"My employer."
"Yes."
"My apartment."
"Yes."
"My heater."
"Yes."
"That's not gratitude. That's stalking with a payroll."
Damian's associate looked away again.
Damian studied her.
Then, unexpectedly, he put the envelope back inside his coat.
"Fine."
Elena blinked.
"Fine?"
"You don't want the money."
"I don't."
"Then we're finished."
"Wonderful."
She walked past him.
"Elena."
She stopped.
Damian's voice changed.
"Do not take the bus tonight."
She turned.
"Why?"
"Because the men who hurt me know someone helped me."
Her irritation vanished.
"How?"
"Someone saw you."
Elena looked toward the street.
"You brought this to my door?"
"No. It was already coming."
"Who are they?"
"People you don't want to meet."
"Neither were you."
That earned a faint smile.
Then Damian looked at the man beside him.
"Marco."
Marco opened the sedan's rear door.
Elena shook her head.
"No."
"Get in."
"Absolutely not."
"I'll take you to work."
"I have a bus pass."
"The bus cannot stop bullets."
Elena froze.
Damian immediately corrected himself.
"Bad example."
"Very comforting."
"Elena."
"No."
"You're stubborn."
"So are infections. Doesn't mean I invite them home."
Damian stepped closer.
For the first time, Elena noticed the fatigue behind his controlled expression.
"Someone betrayed me last night," he said quietly. "Until I know who, anyone connected to me is potentially a target."
"I'm not connected to you."
"You are now."
"I shared a sandwich."
"In my world, that can be enough."
Elena hated that she believed him.
She climbed into the sedan.
During the ride, she kept as much distance between them as possible.
Damian watched the city through the window.
Finally, Elena asked, "What happened last night?"
"Business disagreement."
"Your business disagreements usually involve that much blood?"
"Sometimes more."
"Don't tell me that."
"You asked."
She folded her arms.
"Why were you alone?"
Damian went silent.
That silence answered more than words could.
"Someone close to you set you up."
He looked at her.
"You really are a nurse."
"Pattern recognition."
"Yes."
"Who?"
"I don't know yet."
The sedan stopped outside St. Agnes.
Elena reached for the door.
Damian caught her wrist.
She immediately looked down.
He released her.
"Sorry."
That surprised her more than the touch.
"What?"
"I said I'm sorry."
"I heard you."
Damian leaned back.
"Marco will be here when your shift ends."
"No."
"That wasn't—"
"Don't say 'that wasn't a request.'"
Marco grinned from the front seat.
Damian glared at him.
Elena opened the door.
"Goodbye, Damian."
"Elena."
She looked back.
"Be careful who asks about me today."
Her expression tightened.
"Why?"
"Because anyone who should know you're connected to me already does."
"And anyone asking?"
"Probably shouldn't."
Elena stepped out.
At 11:17 a.m., a man she'd never seen before walked into the emergency department.
He smiled at the reception desk.
May you like
"I'm looking for Nurse Marsh."
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