Chapter 3 - THE DEAD MAN IN ADRIAN’S CLUBClaire grabbed Mason’s phone.
“That’s him.”
Her voice cracked.
“That’s Daniel.”
Mason allowed her to hold the device but kept one hand beneath it in case her trembling fingers lost their grip.
Adrian replayed the footage.
11:43:18.
The man approached Claire’s purse wearing a Marlowe maintenance jacket and baseball cap.
11:43:31.
His face turned toward the camera.
The resemblance was undeniable.
Same narrow jaw.
Same crooked nose.
Same small scar near the temple visible in the photograph Claire quickly pulled from her wallet.
Claire touched the frozen image.
“My brother is dead.”
Adrian studied the photograph she held beside the screen.
“You saw his body?”
Claire did not answer immediately.
“That matters.”
“I saw a coffin.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Her eyes lifted.
“It was closed.”
Mason muttered, “Jesus.”
Claire shook her head rapidly.
“No. I went to the funeral home. They told me the injuries—”
“What injuries?” Adrian asked.
“Car exhaust. He supposedly ran a hose from his tailpipe into the car.”
“So there should have been no reason for a closed coffin.”
Claire stopped.
That fact had apparently never occurred to her.
“The funeral director said there had been decomposition.”
“How long before he was found?”
“Less than a day.”
Adrian and Mason exchanged a look.
Claire saw it.
“What?”
“Someone wanted you not to see the body,” Adrian said.
Her legs weakened.
This time she sat before she fell.
Dr. Salerno emerged from Adrian’s office.
“She has two cracked ribs, extensive bruising, dehydration and what appears to be an older fracture in her left wrist that healed badly.”
Adrian’s expression darkened.
Claire looked ashamed.
“I fell.”
Salerno looked at Adrian.
Adrian looked at Claire.
“No, you didn’t.”
Salerno sighed.
“I gave her something mild for pain. Nothing sedating.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor packed his bag.
“Try not to start a war before breakfast.”
Adrian held his gaze.
“I make no promises.”
After Salerno left, Claire stared again at Daniel’s image.
“If he’s alive, why didn’t he contact me?”
“There may be a reason,” Mason said.
“He watched me bury him.”
“We don’t know that.”
“He let me believe he was dead.”
Her grief turned quickly into anger.
Adrian recognized the transformation.
Fear made some people smaller.
Betrayal made them stand.
Claire looked at the service door on the footage.
“He came inside your club.”
“Yes.”
“Find him.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“You order everyone around, don’t you?”
She stared at him.
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he turned to Mason.
“Lock the Marlowe down.”
Mason nodded.
“No one leaves through employee exits. Check the basement, storage rooms, kitchen, roof.”
“And the public exits?” Mason asked.
“Quietly.”
Within three minutes, the club’s internal security system shifted.
The music continued.
Guests kept drinking.
Champagne still flowed.
But behind the scenes, doors locked and men moved.
Adrian stayed with Claire.
She paced the office despite the pain in her ribs.
“What if he already left?”
“Then we trace him.”
“What if that wasn’t Daniel?”
“You’re the one who said it was.”
“I know what I said.”
“Then believe yourself.”
She stopped.
It was such a strange thing to say that she looked almost offended by it.
“You think it’s that easy?”
“No.”
Adrian poured himself sparkling water.
“But I think someone has spent a long time teaching you to doubt what you see.”
Claire’s eyes shifted.
Gabriel.
He did not have to say the name.
A knock came.
Mason entered with two men.
“No sign of him.”
“Jacket?”
“Missing from the maintenance locker assigned to Luis Ortega.”
“Luis here?”
“Yes. Says he never loaned it.”
“Cameras?”
“We followed Daniel—or whoever he is—through the basement corridor.”
“And?”
“He knew where the blind spots were.”
Adrian’s face changed.
Only management and security knew the blind spots.
“Who has access to those maps?”
“Me. You. Victor. Security supervisors.”
Claire looked between them.
“Victor?”
“Victor Hale,” Mason said. “Club manager.”
Adrian picked up his phone.
“Where is he?”
Mason hesitated.
“We can’t find him.”
Adrian called Victor.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Claire wrapped her arms around herself.
“This is because of the drive.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No one sneaks into a mafia-owned nightclub for the cocktails.”
She gave him an incredulous look.
“You just admitted—”
“I own several legitimate businesses.”
“You said mafia-owned.”
“I was simplifying.”
Despite everything, Claire laughed once.
Then the office phone rang.
Adrian froze.
That line was private.
Only six people knew the number.
He answered.
“Moretti.”
Silence.
Then:
“Put Claire on.”
Her face went white.
Adrian’s hand tightened around the receiver.
“Who is this?”
“You know who it is.”
Gabriel Easton.
Adrian had heard him speak in courtrooms and at charity dinners.
Always smooth.
Always measured.
Tonight, the polish was still there.
That made Adrian hate him immediately.
“Gabriel.”
Claire backed away.
“Adrian, don’t.”
Gabriel laughed softly.
“So she told you.”
“She told me enough.”
“She’s confused.”
Adrian’s eyes went to Claire.
She shook her head.
“She’s been unstable since her brother died,” Gabriel continued. “Paranoid. Depressed. Sometimes violent.”
Claire’s mouth fell open.
Adrian spoke quietly.
“You hit her.”
“I defended myself.”
Mason looked away, jaw flexing.
Adrian’s voice became dangerously calm.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. Threats are warnings. I don’t warn men about consequences they’ve already earned.”
Silence.
Gabriel’s tone changed slightly.
“Send Claire outside.”
“No.”
“She stole confidential client property.”
“Then call the police.”
“I don’t think either of us wants that.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
There it was.
The real conversation.
“What do you want?”
“The drive.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Claire does.”
“No longer.”
A pause.
Gabriel had not known.
Adrian noticed.
“Interesting,” he said.
“What?”
“You didn’t take it.”
Claire looked up sharply.
Gabriel was silent.
Adrian continued.
“You sent the sedan, but someone else reached her purse before your man did.”
“Adrian.”
“Which means someone is playing both of us.”
Gabriel’s breathing changed.
Only slightly.
“Send her home.”
“Her home seems dangerous.”
“She belongs with me.”
Claire whispered, “No.”
Adrian’s eyes hardened.
“No one belongs to you.”
Then he hung up.
Claire stared.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why?”
“He’ll be furious.”
“He can schedule an appointment.”
“You don’t understand Gabriel.”
Adrian laughed without humor.
“Claire, men like Gabriel have been explaining themselves to me since I was fourteen. They all think their cruelty is sophisticated because they wear cuff links.”
Before she could answer, Mason’s phone buzzed.
He looked down.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Victor’s car was found.”
“Where?”
“Warehouse district.”
Adrian immediately understood what Mason was not saying.
“And Victor?”
“In the trunk.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Dead?”
Mason nodded.
Adrian asked, “How?”
“Single shot.”
“Anything on him?”
“Envelope.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
Adrian looked at Claire.
“Bring it.”
Twenty minutes later, a security team delivered the envelope in a clear evidence sleeve.
No fingerprints visible.
Inside was a single photograph.
Adrian Moretti at twelve years old.
Standing beside his mother.
Claire saw his face change.
“Who is that?”
Adrian did not answer.
His mother, Sofia Moretti, had died when Adrian was fifteen.
Officially, an accident.
Unofficially, a lesson delivered by his father’s enemies.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
YOU’VE BEEN PROTECTING THE WRONG FAMILY.
Claire read the sentence.
“What does that mean?”
Adrian looked at Mason.
Mason’s face was grim.
“We need to move.”
Adrian agreed.
His private office was secure.
But someone had already penetrated his club.
“Kane Street house,” Adrian said.
Mason nodded.
Claire shook her head.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Adrian turned.
“Gabriel knows you’re here.”
“I can go to a hotel.”
“He’ll find you.”
“Police.”
“He has judges, prosecutors, officers.”
“My aunt.”
“He’ll follow you and put your aunt in danger.”
Claire stared at him.
Adrian disliked using fear to persuade her.
He disliked even more that every word was true.
“You said I could lock your office.”
“Yes.”
“You said no one came in without your permission.”
“Yes.”
“And a dead man just walked through the building.”
Adrian had no response to that.
Claire picked up her purse.
“I’m leaving.”
She took three steps.
Then every light in the Marlowe went out.
The bass died.
Emergency lighting failed.
For half a second, the entire building was black.
Adrian moved.
He caught Claire around the waist and pulled her behind the desk.
She gasped and tried to fight him.
“Claire.”
His mouth was near her ear.
“Someone cut the main power and backup simultaneously.”
She stopped struggling.
A gunshot cracked somewhere in the hallway.
Then another.
Mason shouted orders outside.
Adrian drew the pistol beneath his jacket.
Claire stared at it.
“You carry a gun?”
“Bad time for moral disappointment.”
Glass exploded near the office entrance.
Adrian pushed Claire lower.
A figure appeared beyond the broken pane.
Adrian raised his weapon.
“Don’t.”
The voice came from the darkness.
Claire stopped breathing.
The man stepped forward.
Wet hair.
Blood on his temple.
A stolen Marlowe jacket.
Daniel Bennett looked at his sister.
“Claire.”
She rose slowly.
Tears filled her eyes.
“You’re dead.”
Daniel glanced behind him.
“Not yet.”
May you like
Then he looked at Adrian.
“But if Mercer finds us before midnight tomorrow, we all will be.”
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