by Black, Regan
Please let this be my miracle, he thought. Everyone claimed it was the season after all. With a betrayal born of greed, the bastard had changed Adam's life on so many levels. He couldn't wait to get even, to make Galloway suffer, with interest.
Adam shook off the dark memories, resuming his role as a food vendor while Messenger strolled away, that elegant stride rooted in confidence. He wondered if anyone else had any idea how dangerous the man was underneath the class and polish.
* * *
As the afternoon slid away, not even the constant stream of customers could distract Selena from Galloway's ultimatum. She smiled, made suggestions and last minute sales, but her mind was on Renata and her nerves were on edge.
"You okay, boss?" Tom asked, rubbing her shoulder.
She caught herself fiddling with a display of scarves near the front window and made herself step away. It didn't matter if she saw Galloway's man or not, she knew he was out there, watching her. Daring her to do the job or break her word.
"I'm fine." She turned her back on the window. "Just daydreaming. What are your plans for tonight?" Tom's social calendar was a rainbow of drinks, dinners, and clubbing and his morning-after stories read like a gossip column.
"I'm meeting friends for drinks, then we might head out to Brevo's."
She bit back the protective questions of when and with whom, kept the warning that he shouldn't go anywhere alone to herself. He wasn't her son, but he was her friend. "Oh, I found something I think Gary will adore," she improvised. "You could leave early and surprise him."
Tom's face lit up as she rounded the sales counter into the backroom. Gary would be the perfect walking advertisement for one of the designers scheduled to go on display next month. And if for some reason she wasn't here… no, she would not let her thoughts stray that direction.
A few minutes later Tom was as safe as she could make him and out of the showroom until the day after Christmas.
She was about to flip the sign on the door to 'closed' when another customer reached for the door, a pleading look on his friendly face. Instead of flipping the lock, she opened the door.
"Thanks," he said. "I'm in a bind."
"You're the guy with the food cart on the corner." She looked around him, but the cart was gone. "Something wrong?"
"Yeah," he said with a grin. "You didn't come by for lunch today."
She'd had too much to think about. Her jittery stomach still wasn't ready to deal with even the mention of food. "We were busy."
"I noticed." He rubbed his hands together to warm them. "You've got a great place here. I'm new in town and in a jam. I got invited to a party, but I don't have anything that says 'happy holidays'. Can you help me out?"
Selena looked him up and down. He was handsome enough, in an average way, with the sandy hair in need of a trim and hazel eyes she thought might change color depending on what he was wearing. The thick, zip-up hoodie in a muted gray emblazoned with the food vendor's logo didn't do much for him. "How much help do you need?"
"This is a short-term thing." He chuckled and self-consciously tugged at the pockets of the hoodie. "I have a decent suit, but only the power tie for interviews." He turned toward the window. "I liked the look of those when I walked by."
She hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable. "Oh sure. Come on over and let's see what makes your eyes pop."
"Pop? Is that safe?"
The smile on her face felt genuine for the first time all day. Probably the last time until Renata was free. "Entirely safe," she assured him. "I'm sure you've been told your eyes change color depending on what you wear."
"Actually no. I've never heard that."
She looked up at him and realized he wasn't fishing for a compliment. "Then you haven't been talking to the right people." She picked up a tie in cobalt blue and held it up. Just as she'd thought, it made his eyes more blue than green. It was nice, but her second choice, in a deep forest green, brought out green and a hint of gold.
"If I were you, I'd go with this one," she said, handing him the green tie. "But take a look for yourself." She pointed to a nearby mirror.
"That's all right," he replied, a dimple showing on one cheek. "I'll trust your expertise."
As she was ringing up the sale, Galloway's henchman walked by. She shivered.
"You okay?"
"Just a chill," she lied, handing over the purchase. "Enjoy your party tonight."
"I will." He hesitated, running his fingertips along the embossed business card looped to the gift bag handle. "The host said I can bring a date. On the off-chance you don't have anything better to do tonight, Miss Vaccaro."
"That's…" Selena didn't know quite what to say.
"Forward, I know, but New York feels like a forward kind of city."
"Yes, it is." She smiled. "But I have to say no. I have other plans tonight."
"Sure. I understand." He took the bag and headed for the door. "You'll still come by for lunch, right? I haven't scared you off?"
If only he was the most scary thing in her world. "Of course not. Happy holidays, Mr…?"
"Call me Adam."
"Okay. Have a very Merry Christmas, Adam."
"You do the same."
Chapter Three
In the abandoned loft across the street from Vaccaro's showroom, Adam stared at the mirror over the sink, trying to see what she'd been talking about with his eyes. They looked the same to him no matter what fabric he held near his face.
He tossed the tie and the two t-shirts aside and returned to the job he was supposed to be doing. Watching for her to make contact with Galloway. As promised, Messenger had sent more of the dossier UI had gathered on Vaccaro, but not even Adam's experienced eye could pinpoint a motive to associate with the slippery traitor.
After he'd left her showroom, Vaccaro had put the closed sign out, but she didn't leave. According to the ghost he had on her computer, she'd been clearing out her email. She sent replies to designers, a one-liner to a friend confirming her plans to meet up for the evening, and yet another email to one of her many cousins asking about the family gathering on Christmas Day.
He couldn't imagine what that gathering would look like. From his observations, Vaccaro's extended family enjoyed spending time together and took care of each other. Two more reasons why her connection to Galloway didn't fit the pattern or profile.
"What does he have on you?" Adam asked aloud, his gaze on the showroom window.
The biggest problem Adam could see was covering his ass while he tailed her tonight. Galloway's bold face to face with Vaccaro without bothering with an alias meant the man didn't expect to be in town long.
Adam's instincts were telling him the exchange was going down tonight. Ideas rolled through his mind as he watched the foot traffic on the street below.
He ran through the more practical options first, sorting out most likely actions and reactions to his presence if he did get caught tailing her. He could claim it was a coincidence at her friend's party, that he'd been invited out of pity. Bumping into her on the subway coming or going was another option, though she'd probably take cabs tonight.
Why couldn't the recovery be somewhere simple like a greedy diplomat's hotel room? And when had he become such a prima donna that the challenge of the unknown didn't excite him?
When it was his end goal on the line. He wanted the data for Messenger, but he wanted Galloway to himself. No way he'd let that bastard slip through his fingers.
The case could be worse than following a beautiful woman around the city. His enhanced vision would provide better back up than any partner but he practiced a few plausible excuses to use if she did catch him on her tail.
Adam turned his attention toward the people on the street. Galloway didn't shirk on the details when he was invested. Someone down there was on his payroll. While Adam's brain wanted to lock onto every separate detail, he narrowed his focus to those who didn't fit in.
He had a feel for the rhythm of the neighborhood now a
nd the general pattern of those who belonged here. And those who tried to look like they belonged, he thought with an inner smile as a tall man moving with a lethal stride emerged from the Subway stairwell.
After years of trial and error, fine-tuning and practice, applying his enhanced thermal vision was almost as easy as blinking. He tuned in, looking for cool spots on the man's torso, confirming the hazy outline of a large handgun at the man's side.
If Adam expanded his view, he knew it would hardly be the only concealed weapon on the street. Still, with the dark glasses, clenched jaw, and off-the-rack clothing, this man oozed more death than the Grim Reaper.
He was here for business, but his business was not fashion. Adam watched him move on down the street and made a mental note which building he entered. Maybe he was looking for a private security position. The designers with serious clout were more than a little paranoid and they employed extensive security entourages to protect their private empires.
Hours later, when she should have been heading home to change clothes for an evening with her friends, Vaccaro remained in her showroom. He would have been worried if not for the consistent activity on her computer and phone.
Still, in the time he'd been watching her, she kept her word and her schedule. Instincts dancing with anticipation, Adam ditched the suit and changed back to the more functional jeans, dark sweater, and leather jacket.
He followed her to her apartment and less than half an hour later, she emerged, dressed head to toe in black, her oversized purse clutched to her shoulder. She moved quickly, down the block, but she was looking all around her as if she sensed she was being followed.
Oh yeah. Definitely up to something.
Adam gave her a little more room, keeping an eye out for Galloway or someone in his employ. No one they passed seemed overly interested in her and she was alone when she entered a residential building with a bright smile for the doorman.
Maybe she was handing off the data to Galloway in some posh penthouse loft.
"Well good evening, Miss Vaccaro!" The doorman pulled the tall glass door open wide for her. Like everyone else she interacted with, he seemed to adore her. "You're visiting later than usual."
"I can't believe it's after midnight!"
"Business must be good."
"Never better," she replied. "I meant to get over here earlier. Hopefully the plants won't hold it against me."
"Surely not." With a broad smile, he closed the door behind her.
Adam wasn't familiar with the address, but clearly the staff here was familiar with her. Who had she come to see, the partying friend? If so, this gave new meaning to fashionably late. Maybe this was one more branch on the Vaccaro family tree.
He had to know which it was. No margin for error here.
"Merry Christmas, Miss Vaccaro!"
"It sure will be. Give my best to your wife," she replied.
He walked on by, blowing into his hands to hide his face as he passed the doorman and saw her slide a key into a mailbox in the vestibule. The vacant home of a friend on holiday would be an inspired place to make the exchange. Galloway was good at finding the places that would be most incriminating for everyone but himself.
Adam knew he was close.
After all these years, to have revenge almost in sight gave him a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. The agonizing over-stimulation of the city would be worth it.
Seven years of waiting, of enduring ridiculous physical hardships would be worth it. Soon he could drop the burden of disgrace and settle the score.
He turned at the block, heading for the side entrance while his mind worked through the cause and effects he would encounter on his way to intercept her.
Seven years of patience had led him to this precise moment.
For the first time in his life, he felt a small dose of holiday cheer.
* * *
Selena slid the last key into the third lock and jiggled it the way Renata taught her. It was an old deadbolt, but functional. She still couldn't believe she was about to rob her cousin. Maybe she could talk her way out of a breaking and entering charge since she had the key. The potential disgrace to the family if she got caught was big, but letting Galloway hurt Renata was far worse.
If Galloway had fooled her with that picture, if it wasn't Renata tied to that chair, it would be years before she lived this down. They'd call her gullible, treat her like an imbecile. Scold her for not finding a way to verify the situation.
Embarrassing as it would be, Selena knew she preferred that scenario over the idea that Renata was suffering.
When the lock gave, Selena slipped inside and leaned back against the door to catch her breath before the alarm system started beeping at her. But it never started. "Great. You forgot to arm it." A smart woman would turn back now and call in the police or her family for back up and to hell with consequences.
If it had just been her life or livelihood on the line, she might have done just that. But Galloway was right. She wasn't ready to risk Renata's life by taking that chance.
The bastard held all the cards in this game.
"We are going to discuss your taste in men when this is over," Selena whispered into the dark.
It really didn't matter how or when Renata had met up with Galloway. Now Selena was on the hook now and one specific Rolex was the toll.
She thought of the doorman and the concierge at the desk, both of whom knew her by name and knew she had a key. If anything went wrong between here and her showroom with that Rolex, she'd be lucky if she wasn't pacing the perimeter of a holding cell on Christmas morning.
Whether in Italy or the States, the Vaccaro family did holidays big with church, food, and more togetherness than most people could tolerate. Uncle Torry headed up the American branch of the family tree and she could just picture his face if he had to bail her out of jail. On Christmas.
It would be comical – if this had been something as simple as a hypothetical situation.
"Think positive." Renata was out of town and Selena was keeping an eye on things. It was a solid story, the one she would stick with no matter what happened.
And a friend keeping an eye on things wouldn't skulk about in the dark, she thought, reaching for the light switch. No point in trying to hide her presence. Not after coming in the front door and chatting up the doorman. Hell, she'd visited often enough her prints were probably all over the place. Maybe that would work in her favor.
She flipped the switch on the panel, but nothing happened. In the dark, she swiped her sweaty palm on her jeans and tried again, flipping the switch off and back on again.
Great. Well, who was she to argue with Fate? The lights had been on in the lobby. The elevator had power. Selena sighed. Renata probably forgot to pay the bill before she jetted off to Madrid.
No big deal. Selena knew her way around the apartment. Because Renata was in the middle of redecorating, the windows were open, and the lights of nearby buildings filtered in, painting the room in a soft light full of shadows.
A tall narrow Christmas tree stood in the corner between the windows. Selena shivered. They'd decorated it two weeks ago, killing a bottle of wine in the process. Before Madrid changed Renata's plans. Selena swallowed. Before Galloway stormed in making crazy accusations about break ups and expensive jewelry.
Unlit, the tree looked eerie now, almost menacing. Holidays were meant to be festive and happy.
"And too many will be ruined if you don't hurry it up," she whispered, thinking of Renata's immediate family and all of the extended family here and abroad who would mourn her.
This whole mess boiled down to choosing the lesser of two evils.
His voice, full of blatant menace this morning, echoed in her mind as she moved down the dark hall toward the bedroom.
She couldn't imagine why one watch mattered so much to him. Jeremy Galloway had walked into her showroom with Renata almost six months ago in a classic, hand-tailored suit oozing polish, charm, and wealth. Ha
rd as she tried, she could not remember him wearing a Rolex.
As a couple they looked perfect together, but so many men looked better next to Renata's style and sensual beauty. From Selena's perspective, the new relationship had all the earmarks of an expensive whirlwind romance with New York's most exclusive tickets and restaurant reservations, until work called Renata back to the other side of the Atlantic.
Selena didn't bother with the light switch in the bedroom. When her cousin was home safe, they could figure out the billing issues.
She passed the dresser with the jewelry chest front and center, focused instead on the tall wardrobe. Renata had a method to the madness of her extensive jewelry collection. Anything of real value she kept in velvet boxes in a false bottom of her lingerie drawer.
Selena shoved aside the wispy collection of lace and silk and tripped the latch. Watches were on the left. Without any light, she decided to take them all and sort it out later.
Her fingers recognized smooth metal links, faceted beadwork, even the hammered silver bangle of Renata's favorite watches. None of these had the fluted bezel edge of the Rolex Galloway so ruthlessly demanded. She peered deeper into the drawer, willing her eyes to adjust to the lack of light.
Galloway was certain the Rolex was here. He would never believe he'd been wrong. Maybe her fingers had misinterpreted and she had it in her purse already, but she couldn't take the chance.
More than a little desperate, Selena dumped the remaining watches into her purse, leaving the wardrobe and lingerie drawer open as she hurried toward the bathroom. The emergency kit under the sink had a flashlight.
She thought of Galloway's sinister visit to the deli, of his sick and sincere compliment to Uncle Torry's espresso. No way was she leaving without the right watch. She held no illusions she could convince Galloway to give her another day to deliver.
Suddenly the bedroom was filled with too much light and a deafening noise. It was as if she'd walked right into a blinding-white fireworks display. Smoke rolled in from the hallway, stinging her eyes and nose, coating her throat and making it hard to breathe. She stumbled back, covering her ears as she sought shelter behind the bed. The ringing in her ears blotted out everything, disorienting her more than the dark and the smoke had done. Her head ached as if someone had clamped it in a vise. Dizzy and in pain, she had no idea which way was which anymore.
