"That was because of your potential infrastructure project cutting off smuggling routes," he said. "At least, that's what you led me to believe."
"That's what I assumed it was. I've never felt unsafe here in New York City."
"Even though you have a fairly heavy security presence surrounding you at all times?" he commented.
"Well, I can't be too careful. I'm a public figure and a rich man. That's why I'm concerned about Samantha. I need to know what happened to her. You need to figure it out, Max."
"Why me? I thought you wanted me to focus on your overseas trips. That's where I have the most expertise, not here in the city."
"You know how to get answers. And I need answers. I'll pay you extra. Just get it done. This is the priority."
He gave Dominic a long, speculative look. "Are you afraid that whoever went after her is coming for you next?"
"It has crossed my mind. Or other people in my life could be in danger. That's why it's imperative we find out who's behind that bomb."
"The FBI is already on it, and I'm sure the ATF and the NYPD are also investigating."
"I want you on it, too."
"I'll do what I can. You're not holding anything back, are you?"
"How can you ask me that question?"
"Because you don't always play by the rules. We both know that. If you're aware of a threat, then telling me what that is will get us to the truth more quickly."
"I'm not holding back," Dominic said. "I—I care about Samantha."
He might have believed him more if Dominic hadn't stumbled through the sentence. Either he wasn't comfortable sharing his feelings, or he was lying.
"Her sister, Julia, is on her way to New York," Dominic continued. "My admin got her a suite at the Hilton near the hospital. Maybe you can talk to her tomorrow."
"What did she tell you?"
"Nothing. She hadn't spoken to Samantha in a couple of weeks. She seemed a little awkward on the phone. I think Julia might feel more comfortable talking to you than to me."
"Why? You're the man Samantha has been seeing."
"She just seemed nervous to be talking to me. She gets in late tonight, but you should be able to reach her tomorrow."
"Okay, I'll speak to her.”
"Hopefully, tomorrow we’ll get better news and better answers.”
"Hopefully," he echoed, but as he left the apartment, he didn't feel hopeful at all.
Chapter Three
Tuesday morning, Max woke up to the familiar smell of ginger and garlic wafting up from the Golden Dragon restaurant on the ground floor of his building. He'd been living in this second-story apartment for almost three months, which, in his life, was a long time. Dominic had offered one of his corporate apartments for the duration of his consultancy, but he didn't like sterile and modern; he preferred warm and chaotic, and his neighborhood on the edge of Chinatown was lively and diverse, with real people who he felt far more comfortable with than those who were in Dominic's orbit.
After a quick shower, he grabbed his coffee mug and headed down the narrow stairs from his second-floor apartment to the restaurant's kitchen entrance. Stepping inside, the energy in the room did not surprise him. It was only eight, and the restaurant wouldn't open for lunch until eleven, but the Kim family was in deep prep mode. Mrs. Kim looked up from her knife work on a pile of scallions, her sharp gaze raking his face and body with the same critical expression she'd worn since the day he'd moved in above the restaurant.
"You look tired. You don't sleep, do you?" she asked, her accent still notable despite living in New York for the past thirty years.
"Sometimes I do."
"Not enough. You need to eat. Not just drink coffee." She gestured at his empty mug with her knife.
"Coffee's fine?—"
