Chapter 2 - The Black Sedan
The Hartwell Grand’s executive parking garage was beneath the hotel’s third subterranean level, accessible only by a private brass elevator keyed to a heavy silver fob Gabriel carried.
I stood in the corner of the elevator, keeping two feet of space between us. The scent of him filled the small brass enclosure—sandalwood, clean rain, and expensive tobacco, though I hadn't seen him smoke.
“You’re an archivist,” he said suddenly, looking straight ahead at the brass elevator doors.
I blinked, startled. “I’m a server.”
“You served wine tonight with the heel of your thumb tucked into the punt of the bottle, but you handled the dessert plates as if the porcelain was brittle. When you put down the wine glasses, you checked the balance of the stems. And when you asked for the food, you used the phrase ‘untouched trays,’ not ‘leftovers.’ You categorize things.”
I looked at him, feeling a sudden chill. “I used to restore rare books. Eighteenth- and nineteenth-century bindings. Specialized paper preservation.”
“Vance Antiquities on Dearborn,” he said without missing a beat. “Owned by Arthur Vance. He passed three months ago.”
“How could you possibly know that?” My voice rose, thin and guarded.
The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open to reveal a dimly lit garage containing exactly three vehicles: two armored Cadillac Escalades and a long, low, midnight-blue Mercedes Maybach.
“Arthur Vance restored my family’s estate records in 2014,” Gabriel said, stepping out into the concrete expanse. He didn’t look back to see if I was following; he simply knew I had no other choice. “He spent four weeks in the library at Lake Forest repairing our grandfather’s shipping manifests from 1922. He was a master of his craft. He spoke often of his daughter. Said she had better hands for gold leaf than he ever did.”
Grief hit me like a cold wave against the throat. My father had been a quiet, gentle scholar who died with three hundred dollars in his checking account and an unpaid medical bill that the collection agency called me about twice a day.
“The shop went into receivership after he died,” I whispered. “The landlord raised the commercial rent four hundred percent. I had to sell the press and the vats just to clear the burial costs.”
Gabriel stopped beside the rear door of the Maybach. A massive man in an immaculate dark suit stepped out from the shadow of a pillar. His face was weathered, his nose broken at least twice, but his eyes were sharp.
“Leo,” Gabriel said.
“Boss,” the big man rumbled.
“Dennis Cole has twenty minutes to clear his desk. Call Marco at the Pilsen warehouse. Tell him the meat run is cancelled indefinitely. If the white van shows up, hold the driver until I can speak with him tomorrow afternoon.”
“Understood,” Leo said. He looked at me, his gaze sweeping from my tangled auburn hair down to the paper bag in my hands, but his expression remained impassive. He opened the rear door of the sedan without a word.
“Get in, Miss Vance,” Gabriel said.
“Mr. Hart, I live in Humboldt Park,” I said, digging my heels into the concrete. “It’s four miles off your route to Lake Forest. You don’t need to drive me. Just give me my bag and let me catch a cab.”
“A cab in the Loop at this hour will cost you thirty-five dollars,” he said, turning to face me. The overhead fluorescent lights cast deep shadows across his sharp jawline. “You have eleven dollars in your account. You told Dennis you were counting on Friday.”
My face burned with a mix of fury and raw shame. “Were you eavesdropping the entire time?”
“I have ears. I use them.” He held the door open wider. “I don’t leave debts unpaid, Clara. Arthur Vance saved family papers that would have cost us millions if they had deteriorated into dust. You are his daughter. You will not carry your child’s dinner through three dangerous blocks at midnight while I sit in comfort. Get in the car.”
There was no threat in his voice. There was something worse: an absolute, unyielding authority that left no room for pride.
May you like
I swallowed, clutched my canvas bag tighter, and climbed into the leather interior.
***