Chapter 2 - The Door That Locked From Both Sides
The safe house was not what Iris expected.
No underground bunker.
No barred windows.
It was a quiet brownstone on a residential street with three bedrooms, a kitchen, and enough armed security outside to invade a small country.
Declan unlocked the front door.
Iris tested it from inside.
It opened.
She tested it again.
Declan watched.
“Satisfied?”
“No.”
“At least you're consistent.”
She turned.
“Phone.”
He handed it back.
Iris checked the signal.
“Good.”
Declan removed his coat.
Blood had soaked through his shirt.
Iris stared.
“You ripped my stitches.”
“Technically, the Costa men ripped them.”
“Sit down.”
“I have a doctor coming.”
“Your doctor isn't here.”
“Iris—”
“Table.”
Declan looked at her.
She pointed.
“The feared Declan Rossi can either sit voluntarily or faint dramatically in front of his employees.”
One of the guards coughed to hide a laugh.
Declan slowly turned toward him.
The guard immediately disappeared into the hallway.
Iris smiled.
“Table.”
Declan sat.
Twenty minutes later, she was closing the wound again.
“You enjoy this,” he muttered.
“I enjoy competent patients.”
“And I'm not one?”
“I've neutered German shepherds with better listening skills.”
Declan laughed.
A real laugh this time.
Then a man entered.
Tall. Gray suit. Cold eyes.
“Boss.”
Declan's amusement disappeared.
“What?”
“We found the vehicle.”
“Costa?”
“Yes.”
The man glanced at Iris.
Declan noticed.
“Speak.”
“They weren't looking only for you.”
Iris stopped working.
“What does that mean?”
The man hesitated.
Declan said, “Marco.”
Marco placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Iris leaving the clinic two weeks earlier.
Her blood ran cold.
“That predates Declan getting shot.”
Marco nodded.
“Eleven days.”
Iris looked at Declan.
“You said they targeted me because I treated you.”
“That was what I believed.”
“Apparently your beliefs need updating.”
Declan picked up the photograph.
“Where?”
“Inside the Costa car.”
“Anything else?”
“A file.”
Marco handed him a folder.
Declan opened it.
His expression hardened.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
Iris grabbed the folder.
“Iris.”
“You brought danger into my life. You don't get to hide the explanation.”
Inside were photographs of her clinic, her apartment, and her father.
Her father had died six years earlier.
One photograph showed him beside another man.
Declan went still.
Iris noticed.
“You know him.”
“No.”
“Bad lie.”
“I know who he is.”
“Who?”
Declan's voice became quieter.
“Anthony Costa.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Iris looked at the photograph again.
“My father knew the Costa boss?”
“Apparently.”
“My father was an accountant.”
Declan and Marco exchanged a look.
Iris saw it.
“What?”
Declan stood.
“Your father wasn't just an accountant.”
Her chair scraped backward.
“Careful.”
“I’m telling you what I know.”
“No. You're deciding how much truth I'm allowed to hear.”
Marco stepped toward the door.
Iris pointed at him.
“You stay.”
Marco looked at Declan.
“Stay,” Declan said.
Iris held up the photograph.
“Start talking.”
Marco answered.
“Your father handled financial records for several shipping companies.”
“I know.”
“Some belonged to Costa.”
Iris looked at Declan.
“And some belonged to Rossi?”
Declan nodded.
Her laugh contained no humor.
“So my father kept books for two crime families.”
“He discovered money was being diverted through humanitarian shipping contracts,” Declan said. “Millions.”
“What happened?”
“He threatened to expose it.”
Iris's face changed.
“My father died in a highway accident.”
Silence.
“No,” she whispered.
Declan didn't lie to her.
“We don't know.”
“But you suspect.”
“Yes.”
Iris walked toward the window.
Outside, two guards stood beneath streetlights.
She had thought the danger began when Declan collapsed against her clinic.
It hadn't.
The bullet hadn't brought danger to her door.
It had exposed danger already waiting there.
Behind her, Declan said, “You aren't leaving tonight.”
Iris turned sharply.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The order.”
“Someone has been watching you for weeks.”
“So tell me that. Don't turn it into ownership.”
“I'm trying to keep you alive.”
“And I'm trying to remain a person while you do it.”
Declan stepped closer.
“You think I don't understand the difference?”
“I think nobody around you has made you practice it.”
That landed.
Marco suddenly became extremely interested in the floor.
Declan stared at Iris.
Then he reached into his pocket.
A key.
He placed it on the table.
“Front door.”
Iris looked at it.
“If you decide to leave, nobody stops you.”
Marco's head snapped up.
“Boss—”
“Nobody.”
Declan kept his eyes on Iris.
“But before you leave, ask Marco for the surveillance photographs and decide with all the information.”
Iris picked up the key.
“Better.”
“Better?”
“Now it's protection.”
Declan frowned.
“What was it before?”
“Captivity with expensive furniture.”
Marco coughed again.
Declan looked at him.
“Marco.”
“Yes?”
“Go somewhere else.”
“Gladly.”
May you like
For the first time since the clinic door shattered, Iris almost smiled.
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