Chapter 1 - The Man Who Knew Too Much
"You know?"
My voice sounded strange inside the armored SUV.
Small.
Sharp.
Like a piece of broken glass somebody had stepped on.
Matteo Conti sat across from me, blood drying along his jaw, looking perfectly comfortable for a man who had just survived an assassination attempt.
Outside the tinted windows, Boston blurred past in streaks of headlights and wet pavement.
"Answer me," I demanded.
He glanced toward the driver.
"Leo."
"Already checking the route, boss."
"Take the long way."
I leaned forward.
"Stop talking like I'm not sitting here."
Matteo finally looked at me.
"Your mother's name is Eleanor Bennett."
My stomach dropped.
"You don't get to say her name."
"She's sixty-one."
"Stop."
"She lives at Harbor Pines Assisted Living in Brookline."
I went cold.
He continued anyway.
"Her medication costs more than her insurance covers, her mobility has declined over the last six months, and you've been working double shifts to keep her there."
I stared at him.
There are moments when fear changes shape.
A gunshot is terrifying because you know exactly what might happen next.
But a stranger knowing the intimate details of your life?
That is a different kind of terror.
That makes you wonder how long you've been watched.
I reached for the door handle.
Locked.
Of course it was locked.
"Open it."
Matteo didn't move.
"Miss Bennett—"
"Don't."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Don't what?"
"Don't use that calm voice with me."
I pointed toward the window.
"You know my mother's name, my job, my bills, and apparently every miserable detail of my life."
I swallowed.
"Either you're the creepiest stalker in Massachusetts, or there's something you're not telling me."
Matteo looked at me for a long moment.
"Both possibilities are worse than you'd like."
"That isn't an answer."
"No."
"Are you physically incapable of having a normal conversation?"
Leo made a sound from the passenger seat.
It might have been a cough.
It might have been laughter.
Matteo ignored him.
"My name is Clara Bennett," I said.
"I know."
"Then you should also know I don't appreciate being kidnapped."
"You weren't kidnapped."
I looked at the locked door.
Then back at him.
"Interesting definition."
"You're being protected."
"By a man who apparently had a file on my mother."
"Yes."
I blinked.
"You could at least pretend that sounds disturbing."
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
"Clara, listen carefully."
His tone changed.
Not louder.
Worse.
More serious.
"The man who fired those shots wasn't supposed to fire until you left the main floor."
My mouth went dry.
"What?"
"He moved early."
"Why would he wait for me to leave?"
Matteo said nothing.
I stared at him.
And suddenly the broken whiskey glasses didn't seem random anymore.
The man who had slammed into my tray had been part of Matteo's entourage.
At least, that was what I'd assumed.
He had brushed my shoulder.
Hard.
His hand had touched the pocket of my apron.
I remembered that now.
A quick movement.
So quick I'd barely noticed.
I reached into my apron.
My fingers closed around something hard.
Small.
Rectangular.
I pulled out a black object no larger than a pack of gum.
One side had a narrow silver strip.
"What is this?"
Matteo's face changed.
Not dramatically.
He didn't shout or grab it.
He simply stopped breathing for half a second.
Leo turned around.
"Boss?"
Matteo held out his hand.
"Clara."
I pulled the object against my chest.
"No."
"Give it to me."
"Tell me what it is."
"Something people will kill to recover."
My heart kicked.
"That's becoming a theme tonight."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"Please."
That word surprised me.
Not because it sounded sincere.
Because I hadn't imagined Matteo Conti knew how to say it.
I placed the object in his hand.
He turned it over.
A tiny red light blinked once.
Leo swore.
"That's not one of ours."
Matteo's eyes flicked to the driver.
"How far?"
"Six minutes."
"Change of destination."
"To where?"
"The waterfront garage."
Leo went rigid.
"Boss, that's exposed."
"Exactly."
He opened a compartment beside his seat and removed a compact electronic device.
He passed the black object over it.
A screen illuminated.
I could see numbers.
A string of letters.
And then two words appeared.
BENNETT / ACTIVE
My breath caught.
"Why is my name on that?"
Matteo turned the screen away.
"Leo, call the house."
"Already doing it."
I moved toward him.
"Matteo."
He looked up.
It was the first time I'd said his name without shouting.
"Why is my name on that thing?"
His expression softened just enough to frighten me more.
"Because someone has been looking for your mother for twenty-six years."
Twenty-six.
My age.
I suddenly remembered something my mother used to say when I was little.
Whenever I asked about my father, she would kiss my forehead and tell me that some people were safer as memories.
I had always assumed she meant he was a bad husband.
Now I wasn't so sure.
"Who?" I whispered.
Matteo looked at Leo.
Leo hesitated.
Then said the words that made the car feel too small.
"Harbor Pines security isn't answering."
I grabbed my phone.
Called my mother.
Once.
Twice.
Straight to voicemail.
I tried the nurses' station.
No answer.
The blood drained from my face.
"Turn around."
Matteo was already reaching for his phone.
"Clara—"
"TURN AROUND!"
He looked straight at me.
"Your mother isn't at Harbor Pines anymore."
I stopped moving.
"What?"
Matteo's voice dropped.
"I had her moved forty minutes ago."
For one glorious second, relief swept through me.
Then I realized what he had said.
Forty minutes.
Before the shooting.
Before he knew someone was coming.
Before I'd poked him in the chest.
I stared at the man across from me.
"You knew this was going to happen."
Matteo didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
And when Leo's phone rang, the person on the other end delivered news that made even Matteo Conti turn pale.
"The woman at the safe location," Leo said slowly, "isn't Eleanor Bennett."
May you like
He looked over his shoulder.
"Boss, somebody switched her."
