“To her...to my daughter.”
“To my daughter,” Madeline corrected. “I have sacrificed...” She took a step back. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t know you were here in Chicago or anywhere. Hell, I didn’t know until Thursday that you were still alive. Once I did, once I saw you again, I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”
“Fucking obligated.” My volume rose. “I am obligated. I was obligated seventeen years ago when you left me.”
Her neck straightened. “This is not going to be settled here. As I said, I’ll leave.”
“And do what?”
“I’ll do what I’ve always done, beg for his forgiveness.”
The small hairs on my neck stood to attention. “Is this some game the two of you play?”
“No, Patrick, it’s not a game. Nothing with Andros is a game. This is my life. It’s my daughter’s life. And for her, I’ll do it. I’ll take whatever penitence he deems sufficient for losing his money. I’ll offer him anything and everything to be back with her.”
What the hell was she even saying?
“Do you think he’ll hurt—” It was at that moment I realized something fucking obvious. I didn’t know my own daughter’s name. “What’s her name?”
“Ruby,” Madeline said as more tears glistened in her eyes. “She’s beautiful and intelligent. She’s talented. She’s also kind and naïve. I named her Ruby after the precious gem that is her birthstone and because the name reminded me of the color of apples.”
Her answer twisted the knife in my gut. “Her last name?”
“Miller. I can explain that later. First, I need to get to her or get her to me.”
“You said you know Ivanov,” I said, not wanting to know the closeness of their relationship. “Is he a threat to Ruby? Does he know where she is?”
She swallowed. “He knows where she is. I want to say he wouldn’t do what he insinuated, but because I do know him, I can’t answer that for sure.” Her head shook as she stood taller. “Ruby thinks of him as a...” She hesitated.
“Father,” I said.
“Not fully. She knows he isn’t. Maybe she considers him an uncle or surrogate.”
Her words made me bristle. I was her father.
Madeline reached out. “Ruby doesn’t think of him as...” More tears came to her eyes. “If he acted upon what he just insinuated...He can’t mean what he said. I have to get back to her.” More sobs bubbled from her throat. “My God, she’s only sixteen. She doesn’t know...I’ve done my best to shelter her. All I want is to hold her and tell her she’s safe.”
That was exactly what I wanted as I imagined images of Madeline at that same age.
Did Ruby look like her mother or did she look like me?
As I was about to ask more, the room shook. The reverberating blast of a gunshot rang out, rattling the walls and light fixtures and pulling me back to reality.
Patrick
The windows rattled as a gunshot blast echoed within the walls of the poker hall.
Without hesitation I reached for the gun beneath my jacket. With the other hand, I pulled Madeline behind me and spun toward the door.
Suddenly, my mind wasn’t on an infant, a child, or even a teenager. Instead, I was seeing the room around me, scanning the few remaining faces.
Terror showed in the eyes of the few remaining bystanders as they crouched to the ground. The other Sparrows had duty in their gaze, their guns drawn and backs against the wall.
Sparrow?
Where the fuck was Sparrow?
While Madeline and I’d been talking, he and Mason must have left the room. That was also the direction the shot had come from.
“Patrick?” Madeline said, her voice again quaking. “What’s happening?”
I pulled her to the side wall near the windows and glanced down at the street. The red awning obstructed my view as a string of cars waited to pick up their waiting passengers. “Stay here.”
With my heart beating at untold speed, I lifted my gun and nodded toward the other Sparrows. We stepped in the direction of the open doors. My eyes immediately met Mason’s green gaze. His neck was taut, cords coming to life as he barked orders.
On the floor near his feet lay a man I recognized as one of our own. His name was Mattis. By the appearance of things, he was very much alive and in considerable pain. The cause wasn’t only from the way the heel of Mason’s boot pushed down on his lower back, but from the blood seeping from his right hand onto the floor.
I stepped out farther, my gun still drawn, and surveyed those present. In the last few minutes, the sheer number of people had dwindled. It now appeared we were surrounded by mostly familiar faces.
“There are some people in there,” I said, “who need to be escorted out. We want only Sparrows here.”
A quick turn to my left and I saw who I’d been seeking. The visual confirmation allowed me to release a relieved breath as I holstered my gun. Sparrow was alive and unharmed. In all his regality he stood near the wall, talking to Garrett, the epitome of control and power, appearing impervious to whatever had happened.
From the banister I peered a story below, into the club’s entry, where Sparrow capos were clearing the rooms. The restaurant, cigar room, and bar were all officially closed by order of Sterling Sparrow. Mutterings of discontent made their way to us, yet it appeared that the exodus was progressing smoothly.
“Ivanov?” I asked, stepping closer to Sparrow.
“He, Hillman, and their men have driven away.”
I thought about Madeline’s plea. “We could stop them before they board their planes.”
Sparrow’s head shook. “I told you to deal with her. You realize that no matter what she’s said, she’s a plant, a trap.”
She could be.
I hadn’t thought of that.
I didn’t want to think of that.
“Tell me,” he said, “what you said about her being your wife, is it true?”
“Seventeen years ago. The marriage is still valid.”
“What about what she said about a child?” he asked. “If it exists, could it possibly be yours?”
It.
Ruby was a she, not an it.
I didn’t say that. “Yes, she could. I don’t fucking know if I trust Madeline now. I did a long time ago and I want to.”
“I trust no one until they prove to be trustworthy.”
“Sparrow, there was a time, she was. Up until Thursday night, I thought she was dead.”
Sparrow lifted his hand. “One catastrophe at a time. We’ll talk about that one later.”
I wanted to argue, to tell Sparrow I’d get in a car and drive to the airport where Ivanov’s plane was preparing to leave. Madeline may know which airport. However, that knowledge alone gave credence to his concern. I tilted my head toward the man on the floor. “What happened?”
Garrett, a trusted member of the Sparrows, joined the conversation. “Traitor.”
I looked again, recalling the younger man from a few assignments and meetings. “Mattis, right?”
“Right,” Garrett replied. “He’s not talking, not yet, but he will. Thankfully, Mr. Pierce saw him draw his gun. Instead of asking questions, Mr. Pierce fired, hitting Mattis’s hand and causing him to drop the gun. The timing was impeccable. It all happened before Mattis could shoot.”
“His target?” I asked, knowing the answer yet needing the confirmation.
“Me,” Sparrow said.
Fuck.
I should have been here at his side. “Sparrow,” I began, “I should have been here. I tried to tell you...”
“Later,” he said definitively, cutting me off again. “Go downstairs and check on Beckman.”
Garrett spoke, “Sir, I sent a capo.”
Sparrow and I turned.
“Do you have confirmation of his safety?” I asked.
“I have confirmation of his demise,” Garrett replied. “From the sound of it, it was probably poison. There�
�s a note. In it, Beckman confessed to Ms. Standish’s murder and stealing the money from the safe. The note said he couldn’t take the guilt. Yada, yada.”
“You don’t believe it?” I asked.
“I don’t,” Sparrow said. “I didn’t know about this charade, but we know who killed Ms. Standish. It was your...” He inhaled, not saying the word wife. “...Ms. Miller’s associate, Leonardo.”
“Any news on Leonardo’s whereabouts?”
“I’d put my money on a shallow grave,” Garrett said.
My gut bubbled with the knowledge that we’d lost both Veronica Standish and Ethan Beckman in the course of twenty-four hours. They were supposed to be on our side. Leonardo was one of Ivanov’s.
If Ivanov could order the death of an associate who had done his dirty work, what else was he capable of?
What would he do to Madeline if she returned?
What would he do to Ruby if she didn’t?
“The capo who was guarding Beckman is being questioned,” Garrett continued. “He seemed shaken by the discovery. This fucking place needs cameras. I’ve got men working to piece together a timeline. I want to know who brought Beckman food or water—well, everything.”
“The safe.” Sparrow said. “My money is in the safe.” He looked at me. “The two of us are headed down now to confirm that it’s still there.”
$11,800,000.
I nodded, knowing I wanted to stay with Madeline, while at the same time recognizing my place was beside Sparrow. As we were about to leave, Madeline came into view, being tugged from the poker room. A Sparrow capo held onto her arm. When she came closer, her green stare came my way.
My descent stilled as I turned back and moved toward the capo. “Get your hands off of her.”
“Mr. Kelly,” the capo seemed to falter, “you said to clear the room. Mr. Sparrow gave the orders involving Ms. Miller.”
What?
I spun toward Sparrow. “No one is touching her.”
Sparrow’s dark gaze met mine as he lowered his voice. “As I pointed out, she’s part of the Ivanov bratva.” His features hardened. “He’s declared war. I told you to deal with her. Now we are.”
My head shook. “I will. Things are—”
Sparrow stepped closer, blocking my view of Madeline as his volume lowered. “Look at me.”
I fought the urge to look at Madeline and met Sparrow’s dark stare.
“Listen closely,” he said through clenched teeth. “We are at war. For all intents and purposes, she’s as guilty as Mattis. Think about it, Patrick. For whatever history the two of you share, I would bet the entire twelve million we placed in the safe that it wasn’t a coincidence she was here. Ivanov sent her here as your distraction. Yours personally.”
I listened to his words.
“That means,” Sparrow continued, “he’s done his research. He knows what you’re capable of and also calculated your greatest vulnerability.”
If I were outside this conversation, I could agree with him. I wasn’t outside of it. I was in the fucking middle, with fire raging all around me. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but I couldn’t form the words.
“I believe you came to Chicago to fuck with me.”
It was what I’d said to Madeline Thursday night.
“Trust your gut.”
It was Mason’s advice.
My head shook. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“Believe this,” Sparrow said, “she distracted you.”
I nodded. “I tried to—”
“She’s being taken for questioning.”
My mind was a blur. My stomach churned with bile as I imagined our questioning techniques. “Where?”
“I need to know you’re with me,” Sparrow said.
“I am. I’m with you.” I stood taller. “No one else questions her. It will be me.”
“Currently, you’re going downstairs with me to check the safe. This isn’t a debate.”
I stood dumbfounded as all eyes were on us. I lowered my voice. “We’ll open the safe. Don’t take her off premises. Not until...” I didn’t finish the sentence. The decision would be his. The intensity of his stare told me that. All I could hope was that he’d see my point of view. “Sparrow, she’s my wife.”
“I need a fuck ton more answers,” he said.
“You aren’t the only one,” I replied.
I turned back to the capo. “Lay one hand on her and I’ll kill you right here.”
His hands came up toward his chest, palms out. “Mr. Kelly...”
Sparrow stepped forward, speaking toward Madeline and the capo. “Ms. Miller, cooperate and no one will be hurt, not yet.”
Madeline nodded. “Please, I need your help.”
Sparrow spoke to the capo, “Confiscate her phone and handbag. Take her downstairs to the offices. Put her in Ms. Standish’s office after you disconnect the phone and computer. Stand guard and for fuck’s sake, no one brings her food or drink.”
Madeline’s eyes pleaded my direction. “Patrick, stop Andros from leaving the city. Once he’s back in Detroit, he’s unstoppable.”
“Sounds like a setup,” Mason said, stepping forward. He hadn’t heard our earlier conversation as he had been dealing with Mattis. That traitor was now in the hands of other Sparrows.
My blood boiled as I looked from Madeline to Mason and Sparrow. I didn’t want to admit it, but Mason was right. It did sound like a fucking setup. I spoke to the capo. “Listen to Mr. Sparrow. Take her down to Ms. Standish’s office. Make sure she has no means to communicate outside this building. Stand guard. No one touches her. No one talks to her. No one brings her a thing. You won’t fucking move from the door. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
I spoke to both of them, “Stay there until I get there.”
“Patrick, please. Ruby...”
“Madeline, don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” My jaw ached as I clenched tighter and stared her way. Without another word, I turned the other direction and headed toward Beckman’s office. The safe was my first stop.
Maddie
Seventeen years ago
With my head lowered and body crouched before the toilet bowl, I saw the bathroom door open inward. Very few spaces around the mission were private. This bathroom was one of them—if only I’d taken the time to lock the door.
The facilities were public, a one-person bathroom off a back hallway. Its location within the mission meant it served primarily for the use of the cafeteria workers. The mission had been constructed within an old elementary school. Classrooms were subdivided into apartments. The kitchen was mostly updated and the cafeteria was large enough to feed the current residents. The gymnasium was the all-purpose room, holding our church services as well as free-time area. The offices that had at one time been used by the principal and other administrators were used by the pastor, his wife, and a secretary.
Through watery eyes, I looked toward the opening door. A million thoughts and feelings were vying for attention. I was angry with myself for not locking the door behind me. At the same time, I was relieved to perhaps have a confidant.
The reality was that I hadn’t had time to lock the door. I barely made it to the toilet before the breakfast I’d recently consumed made its way back up and out. My stomach constricted as I again gagged, my body retching from the internal assault. With the food gone, I was now left with dry heaves.
Kristine, the pastor’s wife, entered and closed the door behind her. She was an older woman—older than me—probably in her thirties or maybe forties. She and her husband were the reason Patrick and I were here. Their vision was to help people like us, people who needed a nudge to move beyond the streets. When it came to all things around the mission, Kristine ran a tight ship, but no matter what the situation, she managed to smile and encourage.
Her expression held no condemnation, only concern. “Maddie, are you sick?”
More tears came to my eyes as I fought the roll
ing nausea. A slick layer of perspiration coated my skin, yet my limbs trembled as if the temperature had dropped to below freezing. My fingers blanched as I held on to the edge of the porcelain basin.
I inhaled and exhaled, waiting for the next bout of nausea. When it didn’t come, I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and shakily stood.
After flushing the evidence down the toilet, I went to the sink. Cupping my hand under the running water, I brought a small amount to my lips. The fresh clear liquid cleansed and refreshed my mouth as I swished and spat, each round helping to remove the nasty taste. Finally, I turned to the woman who was responsible for our housing, who’d taken pity on me and Patrick, who’d helped provide us with a semblance of a life.
Kristine and I were nearly the same height. Staring into her eyes, I told her the truth. “I don’t know if I’m sick. I don’t think I’m contagious if that’s what you’re worried about. I can work. I can,” I added the second confirmation as my sentences come faster, and fear added to my distress. Missing work would jeopardize our one-room apartment. “I’m sorry.”
Kristine came my way, lowered the lid on the toilet, and directed me to sit. “Talk to me, Maddie.”
“I-I don’t think I’m sick.”
“What do you think the problem is?”
Problem?
Was being pregnant a problem?
Wasn’t it supposed to be a blessing or something corny like that?
Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I stared up.
As I did, Kristine crouched down until our eyes were again level. “Does Patrick know?”
Swallowing the new sobs, I shook my head. Finally, I shrugged. “I don’t even know.”
“Have you taken a test?”
“No.”
“When was your last period?”
I tried to recall. My cycles weren’t regular. After moving onto the streets, I assumed the irregularity had to do with nutrition—or lack thereof. It wasn’t that I’d starved; nevertheless, up until our relocation to the mission, the proper vitamins and minerals were often lacking. “I think it was just before we were married.” I took a deep breath. “It was really short. I remember thinking it was weird, and I hadn’t had one for a while before that. Like I said, I’m not regular.”
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