Chapter 2 - The Photograph
The next morning, it rained.
The Tidal Cup was empty except for a fisherman reading a newspaper in the corner.
Emma was upstairs, drawing at the kitchen table.
Claire was wiping down the espresso machine when the door chimed.
Damian walked in, bringing the cold air with him.
He didn't go to a table. He walked straight to the counter.
“I didn't order you a coffee,” Claire said without looking up.
“I’m not here for coffee.”
He placed a manila envelope on the counter.
It was damp from the rain.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
Claire dried her hands.
She pulled out a single 8x10 photograph.
Her breath caught in her throat.
It was Emma.
She was playing by the chain-link fence at her preschool. The angle was from across the street.
“Where did you get this?” Claire’s voice shook.
“It was left on my desk in Chicago two days ago.”
Damian’s eyes were entirely devoid of warmth. This was the Mafia King she remembered.
“They know about her, Claire.”
“Who is 'they'?”
“Marcus Thorne.”
Claire knew that name.
Thorne was Damian’s most vicious rival.
“You told me you didn't know I was here.”
“I lied,” Damian said flatly. “I came because of the photo. I bought the Harmon Cannery project as a cover.”
“You brought them to us.”
“They were already looking.”
“Because of you!” Claire slammed her hand on the counter.
The fisherman in the corner looked up, then quickly went back to his paper.
Damian lowered his voice, but the intensity only sharpened.
“Pack a bag. Both of you.”
“No.”
“Claire, this isn't a negotiation.”
“I am not running with you. You threw me away.”
“I kept you alive.”
Claire froze.
“What did you say?”
Before Damian could answer, the door chimed again.
Two men in dark suits stepped inside.
They didn't look like locals. They didn't look like tourists.
May you like
Damian shifted, subtly blocking Claire from their line of sight.
His hand slipped inside his coat.
