Chapter 17: CLOSE CIRCLES

Chapter 17: CLOSE CIRCLES
The words hung there between us like someone had just dropped a razor blade into the middle of the table. Closer to Steve’s inner circle. I didn’t like the way Mark was looking at me when he said it... measured, steady, like he was waiting to see if I’d connect dots I didn’t even know existed yet.

“What does that mean?” I asked, sharper than I meant to.

Mark leaned forward, forearms braced on the table. His uniform looked a little too perfect for this hour, like he’d ironed it twice just to make a point. “It means,” he said, “these people aren’t just going after him in general. They’re narrowing the field.”

“That’s not an answer,” I shot back.

“It’s the only one I can give you without breaking a few rules.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “Then break them.”

He hesitated, eyes flicking briefly toward Steve before coming back to me. “First incident,” he said, “was aimed at one of Steve’s business partners. Public event. Partner’s car bombed before he got in it. Second? Security staff. Off-duty, one of the men Steve’s had for years. shot outside his own apartment. Survived, but barely.”

My stomach tightened, but I kept my face neutral. “And the last?”

Mark’s jaw flexed once. “Assistant’s spouse. Car run off the road. Not fatal, but intentional. No doubt about it.”

I felt the shift beside me before I saw it... Steve’s attention tightening, pulling inward. Not an outward reaction, but the air seemed heavier around him.

“That’s not random,” I said.

Mark’s voice was quiet now. “No. It’s not.”

Steve finally spoke. “You think they’ll keep getting closer.”

Mark didn’t blink. “I think they already are.”

The table felt colder. I set my hands flat against it just to have something to do. “So what’s the next logical step?”

Mark’s eyes flicked to me again. “I don’t think you need me to say it.”

I did, though. Because thinking it and hearing it out loud were two very different things.

“I’m part of his inner circle,” I said.

“Exactly.”

For a second, I forgot we weren’t alone. I forgot Steve was still right there, watching me with that unreadable calm of his. My chest went tight, not with fear but with the sudden awareness that the line between my job and… something else… was getting blurry.

I looked at Steve. “Then we change the setup. You keep me close, closer than before.”

His gaze held mine for a beat that felt longer than it should have. Not a challenge, not a refusal. Just… a calculation.

“That’s not necessary,” he said finally.

“It’s smart,” I countered.

Dante shifted by the door, breaking his statue act. “It’s both,” he said, tone flat but decisive.

Steve’s eyes flicked to him, and there was something like a silent conversation happening in that two-second glance. Finally, Steve turned back to me. “Fine.”

Not “thank you.” Not “good idea.” Just fine. But it was enough.

We stood. Mark gathered the files back into their precise little stack, his movements slow enough to make me think he wasn’t quite done talking.

“Laura,” he said, as I stepped past him.

I paused.

“Watch your back.”

I gave him the kind of half-smile that was more teeth than warmth. “Always do.”

Steve didn’t linger for small talk. He was already moving toward the door, Dante falling in behind him. I followed, the three of us cutting through the station’s narrow hallway like we were in our own current. The hum of phones and typing felt muted now.

Outside, the air was cool and damp, the kind of New York evening that smelled faintly of rain and exhaust. Steve’s car—a sleek black sedan that looked like it had been engineered for intimidation—was waiting at the curb. The driver stepped out to open the back door.

I was halfway in when it happened.

Tires.

Screeching hard enough to turn heads up and down the block.

A black SUV came out of nowhere, cutting across traffic like the laws of physics didn’t apply to it, sliding into our lane so close I could see the smudge on its bumper.

It stopped just long enough for the windows, tinted black... to angle toward us.

Then it roared off, disappearing into the swarm of yellow cabs and brake lights before anyone could get a plate number.

I straightened slowly, heart pounding once... not fear, but something hotter.

Dante’s eyes met mine in the side mirror. No words, but I could tell: whatever this was, it had just moved up the schedule.