Chapter 111 #29: Stay Behind Me
The pounding on the motel door stops for half a second, then starts again, heavier this time. David’s hand tightens around the phone. Maya’s voice spills out urgently from the speaker. “David, you need to get out now. They’re already–”
He ends the call with his thumb and tosses the phone onto the bed. I’m already moving, snatching my dress from the floor and yanking it over my head while I step into my shoes.
David grabs his pants, pulls them on in one motion, then reaches for the gun he left on the nightstand. “Stay behind me.”
I don’t argue. The adrenaline from earlier hasn’t faded; it’s just shifted into something colder and more focused.
Another knock, then the voice follows again, calm now, almost polite. “Mr. Reid. Mrs. Calder. I know you’re both in there. Open the door and let’s have a civilized conversation. I’d prefer not to break it down.”
I glance at David. “Window?”
David shakes his head. “We’re on the second floor. It's too high. We need to go through him.”
He moves to the door and looks through the peephole, then unlocks it but doesn’t open it all the way. He keeps his body angled to shield me, his gun held low but ready.
The door swings inward slowly and the man raises both hands with his palms out, signalling that he holds no weapon – at least not one that’s visible.
“Easy,” he says. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. Yet.”
David doesn’t lower the gun. “Who are you?”
The man smiles. “You can call me Shadow.”
I step forward so I’m beside David, not behind him. “You’ve been following me for weeks. Why?”
“Years, actually.” Shadow tilts his head, studying me. “Your father kept you well protected. Malcolm had reach even after he was gone. His name alone kept most people at bay. But names lose power when the protection disappears.”
David’s grip on the gun tightens. “What do you want?”
“The ledger.” Shadow’s voice stays even, almost conversational. “And Malcolm’s records. Every debt, every favour, every name that still owes or is owed... it all belongs to the organization now.”
I let out a short laugh. “You’re too late. Someone already took it.”
Shadow’s smile doesn’t waver as he tilts his head slightly. “Now why don’t I believe you?”
David raises the gun again. “Believe whatever you want and get out.”
His gaze slides to David. “Do you really think I came here alone? A single cough from me and your brains will be decorating the rug.”
David takes a single challenging step forward. “Is that a threat?”
“I prefer to call it motivation.” Shadow lowers his hands slowly. “Now, Mrs. Calder, I’m going to ask you nicely one last time. Where is the real ledger?”
I meet his gaze without blinking. “If I knew, do you think I’d still be standing here talking to you?”
He studies me for a long moment. Then he sighs, almost regretful. “Pity. I was hoping we could keep this friendly.”
His hand raises to give a signal, but David moves before I see it coming.
He steps forward and slams the door into Shadow’s face with enough force to make the frame rattle. Shadow stumbles back, blood already streaming from his nose. David follows, driving his shoulder into the man’s chest and forcing him against the hallway wall.
Gunshots erupt around us as the snipers struggle to take aim.
I grab my bag from the floor with the gun still inside, and run after them. I pull my gun, aim low, and fire once into the floor between his feet. The shot echoes down the hallway, making Shadow freeze. David uses the distraction to slam his fist into Shadow’s jaw, then grabs him by the collar and throws him toward the stairwell.
Shadow hits the railing hard, slides down two steps, then rolls the rest of the way to the landing below.
David turns to me. “Go!”
We sprint down the hall toward the fire exit at the far end. I shove the door open and cold night air rushes in. We pound down the metal stairs, our footsteps ringing loud in the narrow space.
Behind us, Shadow shouts something I can’t make out over the blood pounding in my ears.
We hit the parking lot running. David’s car is closer than mine. He unlocks it with the fob as we approach. I dive into the passenger seat while he slides behind the wheel. The engine roars to life. Tires squeal as he peels out of the lot.
I twist to look behind us. No headlights are following yet, but that doesn’t confirm anything.
“Take the back roads,” I say. “Avoid the highway.”
He nods, already turning onto a side street.
We drive in tense silence for the first ten minutes, both of us checking mirrors every few seconds. When no one appears behind us, I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“He’s not going to stop,” I say quietly.
“I know.”
“He knows where I live.”
David’s knuckles whiten on the wheel. “Then we get Lucy out tonight and take her somewhere safe.”
I close my eyes for a second. “I’ve already told you this. I can’t just pull her out of her life, David. She’s at an age where she needs structure.”
“Drop me at home,” I tell him.
He glances at me. “It’s not safe.”
“I know. But she’s my daughter and I need to know she’s safe.”
David doesn’t argue. He just changes lanes and heads toward the Upper East Side.
We pull up to the building forty minutes later. The street is quiet. No black SUVs. No men in fedoras. Just the usual late-night hush of moneyed Manhattan.
David kills the engine. “You never gave me an answer, you know.”
He doesn’t need to explain for me to know what he means.
“I think you already know the answer,” I say quietly.
He sucks in a breath, then lets it go slowly.
“How?” he whispers. “The doctors said...”
“It was a miracle, David,” I say smiling, “She’s our miracle.”
He begins to get out of the car. “I need to meet her.”
“And you will,” I say stopping him. “But I need to prep her first. Besides, Vincent is in there.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but he nods once. “Five minutes. Then I’m coming up.”
“Ten,” I counter. “And keep the phone on.”
I lean over and kiss him quickly, then I’m out of the car before he can change his mind.
I take the elevator up, heart in my throat the whole way. When the doors open on our floor, the hallway is silent. Nothing but the soft glow of the sconces and the faint scent of the lilies someone always leaves outside Mrs. Hargrove’s door.
I unlock our apartment quietly.
Inside, everything is dark except for the small lamp in the living room. The house feels too quiet as I slip off my shoes so my heels don’t click on the marble, and move toward the hallway.
Lucy’s door is cracked open, soft golden light spilling out. I push the door wider slowly.
She’s sitting cross-legged on her rug with her colouring book open in front of her, and crayons scattered around. Her tongue pokes out between her lips in concentration as she fills in the scales of a purple dragon.
“Baby,” I whisper.
She looks up, face lighting. “Mommy!”
I cross the room and drop to my knees beside her, pulling her into my arms. She smells like strawberry shampoo and crayons. I bury my face in her hair and breathe her in.
“You’re supposed to be asleep,” I murmur against her curls.
“I was waiting for you.” She pulls back, eyes wide and serious. “You promised me a story.”
I smile despite everything. “I did, didn’t I?”
She nods.
“Okay. But first I need to freshen up. Then I’ll read you the longest dragon story we have. Deal?”
“Deal.” She grins, then adds, “The one with the baby dragon who learns to fly.”
“Got it.” I kiss her forehead. “Five minutes. Finish up.”
She nods and goes back to colouring.
I stand, legs shaky now that the adrenaline is crashing, and head to my bedroom. The door is ajar with light spilling from inside. I push it open and flip the switch.
Vincent sits in the armchair by the window holding a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His tie is loose, shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
He looks up slowly.
“Where have you been all day?” he asks in a low voice.
I close the door behind me. “Working. Then handling some things.”
“Things.” He takes a slow sip. “With him?”
I don’t answer right away. Lying won’t help. He’s too far gone for lies to stick.
“Yes,” I say finally.
He nods once, like he expected it. “All day?”
“Most of it.”
Another sip. “Did you fuck him?”
The question lands bluntly.
I could lie. I could dodge. But the truth is already sitting between us like an open wound.
“Yes,” I tell him.
Silence stretches so long I start counting my heartbeats.
He sets the glass on the side table with careful precision. Then he stands.
I brace myself, every muscle instinctively locking tight. I’ve seen him angry before. I’ve seen him drunk. But I’ve never seen him quite like this.
He walks toward me and I have to resist the urge to step back. He stops inches away – close enough that I can smell whiskey and cologne and the faint metallic tang of rage.
For one terrible second I think he’s going to hit me.
Instead he steps around me, opens the door, and walks out.
I stand frozen, listening to his footsteps recede down the hall. The front door opens. Closes. Then the muffled sound of the elevator.
A minute later I hear his car start in the garage below. Tires screech as he pulls out.
I exhale shakily.
He’s gone to cool off, that’s all. He’ll drive around the city, blast music, maybe stop at a bar. He’ll come back in a few hours, sober and sorry, and we’ll talk. Or we won’t. Either way, he'll be fine.
I take a quick shower, change into my pyjamas and walk back to Lucy's room.
The door is still cracked open. I push it wider and find her bed empty with the covers thrown back. Her colouring book has been abandoned on the rug.
My brow furrows. “Lucy?”
No answer.
I step inside and flip on the overhead light. The room is exactly as I left it, except she’s not here.
I check the bathroom. Empty.
I check under the bed. Nothing.
“Lucy?” My voice rises as panic begins to claw up my throat.
I move faster now, opening closets, looking behind curtains. Nothing.
I run to the kitchen. Lights on. No one.
Living room. Dining room. Guest room. My office.
Empty.
Everywhere empty.
Panic starts low in my chest, small at first, then spreading fast, squeezing my lungs until I can barely breathe.
I grab my phone and dial Vincent, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I dial again.
Voicemail.
I run back to Lucy’s room, drop to my knees beside her bed and press my face to the sheets realising the cold truth. Only one person left. Only one person was angry enough to take her.
My husband just kidnapped my child.