"She's in critical condition."
Dominic ran a hand through his already messy blond hair. "But she's going to make it, right?" There was desperation in Dominic's eyes and in his voice, but Max had never been one to sugarcoat the truth.
"It's less than fifty-fifty," he replied.
Dominic swore, then waved him into the luxurious living room, which offered floor-to-ceiling views of the glittering city. "Do you want a drink?" Dominic asked as he walked over to a fully stocked bar and poured himself a shot from the open bottle of tequila.
"No thanks."
Dominic swigged the tequila, then picked up the bottle again to pour another shot. "I can't believe what is happening."
"I'm sorry about Samantha. I wish I'd gotten there on time."
"Then you would be in the hospital, too." Dominic drank down his second shot and said, "Was this about me? Or was it about her?"
"She was most likely the target of the bomb, whether that was because of her job or her relationship with you, I don't know," he said. "I spoke to the FBI agent investigating the explosion, and she told me someone spilled coffee on Samantha, which sent her into the restroom before the blast. That seems like a purposeful move."
Dominic stared back at him, his jaw tight, anger running through his eyes. "Doesn't sound like a coincidence." He walked over to the couch and sat down, his shoulders sagging with worry.
Max took the seat across from him, studying Dominic's face, his demeanor. Everything suggested genuine worry, heartbreak, and anger for what had happened to a woman he'd been seeing for a few weeks, but was it true?
He shouldn't have doubts. He'd known Dominic for years. Actually, that wasn't completely true. They'd met at prep school as teenagers, and for a couple of years, they'd been close, but that had been a very long time ago. They'd only renewed their friendship nine months ago when Dominic had asked him to consult on global security after a lapse by his current security team had resulted in an ambush, leaving two men dead.
But that situation had happened on the other side of the world, and Dominic had expressed no concern about his presence in New York City, where his corporate headquarters were located, or about his current girlfriend.
"Does the FBI have any suspects?" Dominic asked.
"If they do, they're not sharing."
"You said you spoke to an agent. Did you tell her you were supposed to meet Samantha?"
"I did."
"Did you mention me?"
"I did not," he said evenly. "But your connection to Samantha is not a secret. You've been photographed together. Her sister knows about you. Your name will come up, and they'll want to talk to you."
"What do you suggest I do?"
"Tell them what you know."
"Which is nothing."
"Then it's nothing," he said simply.
Dominic stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the city.
After a moment, he rose and followed him. The city was spread out before them, and he knew Dominic considered himself to be a power player, not only in the city but in the country, and also the world. Despite his stature, this incident had shaken him, and he didn't know if that was because Dominic was in love with Samantha or because something else was going on.
"I wish Samantha had told me what she wanted to talk to you about," Dominic said, frustration edging his voice. "Are you sure she didn't give you an idea of the subject?"
"Positive. Do you know what she was working on?"
"A corporate fraud case, I think, but she didn't talk about her work, and neither did I. We wanted to keep that part of our lives separate." Dominic turned to face him. "This was probably tied to her case, don't you think? My competitors, my enemies, they wouldn't have gone after her, would they?"
He could see the genuine fear in Dominic's eyes. "That's the second time you've asked that question. Is there some reason you think someone would have gone after her?"
"We both know what happened in Dushanbe six months ago."
