Aidan watched Jason Stark emerge from the office building across the street. Stark was on his phone, and from the way he surveyed the traffic, he was waiting for a ride. Aidan got anxious when he had to follow by vehicle. On foot, he could blend into the crowd. But his old red pickup with its rusted-out, banged-up passenger door stood out too much among the sleek black SUVs and grimy yellow cabs that made up the bulk of Manhattan traffic. He had no choice if he wanted to follow the guy, though, and he’d better move it. Heart racing, Aidan turned the corner and sprinted to where he’d parked his truck. Shit. He grabbed the parking ticket off the windshield. Sixty bucks for blocking the alley by a few frigging inches. Sixty bucks he couldn’t spare.
He pulled out onto the avenue in time to see Jason Stark slide into the passenger seat of a sporty blue Audi. There was a woman at the wheel. He couldn’t see her face, but she had black hair. The Audi edged into traffic and took off. Following was nerve-racking. He had to stay far enough back that they didn’t spot his truck but not so far that he got stuck at a light and lost them. It was stop-and-go all the way to the Midtown Tunnel. Halfway through the tunnel, traffic started moving for no apparent reason. He emerged into daylight and the traffic soon disappeared. The surface streets in Queens were wide-open and empty, and he stayed as far back as he could without losing them. Aidan didn’t know Queens at all. From the street signs, it looked like they were heading in the general direction of Kennedy Airport. Maybe these two had a plane to catch. Maybe Stark was running off with her and taking Caroline’s money.
After several turns deeper into Queens, he realized that wasn’t happening. They were in a warehouse district now. Parking lots and low-rise buildings, all grimy and looking like they’d be full of junk inside. He turned a corner and came upon the Audi already pulled over in front of an auto parts store. The two of them were getting out of the car. He eyed them as he drove past. Stark wore a gray business suit. The woman was in stiletto heels and a short skirt topped off with a leather jacket. She was attractive in a hard sort of way, but how any man could betray Caroline for her—for anyone—he couldn’t fathom.
Aidan parked around the corner and walked back toward the auto parts store, hands in his pockets, huddling into his jacket against the wind. There wasn’t a single person on the street except for him. A car cruised slowly toward him. It was nondescript—an old Ford in a muddy color—but he could’ve sworn he’d seen it before. He felt eyes on him, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Something felt off here. He strolled past the auto parts store and glanced through the plate-glass window. The aisles were full of cables and batteries and chains. An older woman stood behind a counter with a cash register. But Stark and his girlfriend were nowhere in sight.
Aidan walked past the store and turned down the alley, heading around the back, hugging the side of the building. He poked his head around the corner and there they were, about fifty feet away, standing in front of an open garage bay where a mechanic worked on a car raised on a lift. It wasn’t the sort of place you imagined Jason Stark going to get his car serviced. Then again, that hard-looking Russian woman was more mobster moll than the girlfriend of a one-percenter finance bro like Jason Stark. None of this fit, which was why Aidan was so worried.
The small parking area was decrepit and full of debris and reeked of burning oil. The mistress was stamping her feet and blowing on her hands in the unseasonably cold air. They waited there for about five minutes, and Aidan watched, deeply confused about what was going on. Then a man emerged from the open garage bay. Not the mechanic, a different guy, and the look of him made Aidan gasp. He looked like a hardened killer. Built like a prizefighter, with a scar on his cheek, dressed all in black, a knit cap pulled down low to his eyes. It was shocking to think that Stark, with his establishment aura, his air of wealth and privilege, would associate with a man the likes of this. The fact that they were meeting was suspicious on its own.
Aidan watched with his own eyes as the bruiser walked up to Stark and shook his hand like they were acquainted. Stark took a thick envelope from his jacket and passed it to the man, who opened it and rifled through a substantial wad of cash. A payoff of some kind. Jesus, this was some shady stuff. Aidan moved in closer to listen. The bruiser opened his mouth, and as if on cue, a horrible screeching sound started up inside the garage. Whether or not it was specifically designed to cover up their conversation from potential eavesdroppers, it had that effect. The wind was blowing in Aidan’s direction, and if not for the noise, he would’ve been able to hear what they said in its entirety. Instead he only managed to pick up a few words here and there. He heard “money,” “no good,” and “problem.” Stark looked agitated. The wind shifted, and for a few minutes, Aidan heard nothing. The mistress lit a cigarette and looked away. She backed up a few steps. Aidan got the impression that what was being said was so ugly that she wanted to stay out of it.
The wind shifted back. Aidan heard Stark say his wife’s name. He wasn’t imagining things. Stark clearly said “Caroline,” and a film of anger dropped down over Aidan’s eyes. He wanted to go over and punch that smug asshole Jason Stark in the face, yell at him to get Caroline’s name out of his dirty mouth, to keep her away from this wretched company. What the hell was he doing talking to this evil thug about a beautiful woman like Caroline? Whatever he was doing, it was not good. Aidan took a deep breath and sharpened his ears. The bruiser had moved on to talking about Hannah. He distinctly heard that name. Hannah was Caroline’s daughter. The thug not only said her name; he said Stony Brook, too, which Aidan knew from Caroline’s phone was where her daughter went to college. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Was this—
“—gonna die,” the bruiser said, and that confirmed Aidan’s worst fears.
What had he witnessed? Stark and his mistress meeting with some lowlife underworld hit-man type. Stark paying off the thug with an envelope full of cash. The two men speaking about Caroline and Hannah. Then the thug saying someone was gonna die. What could that be, except a contract for a hit? Jason Stark wanted to be free to live with his trashy girlfriend and not have to share the money with his ex-wife. He’d taken out a hit on his wife and daughter.
Aidan was the only one who knew. He was the only one who could protect them.