“Go! Now!”
Marcus Thorne kicked the heavy steel door of the Brooklyn safehouse shut, engaging the deadbolt just as a battering ram slammed into it from the hallway. The wood splintered, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the loft.
“Marcus, please!” “Elena” screamed, clutching her coat. “Who are they?”
“Men who want to silence you,” Marcus growled, grabbing her hand. He dragged the confused woman toward the rear fire escape.
They scrambled out into the cold alley rain just as the front door gave way. Inside, Dante Ricci’s private security team swarmed the apartment, weapons drawn, looking for the asset that threatened the music mogul’s billions.
“Clear the room!” a voice shouted from inside. “Find the back exit!”
Marcus didn’t wait. He shoved “Elena” into Dominic’s waiting sedan. The tires screeched against the wet pavement as they sped away, leaving the safehouse–and the illusion of safety–behind them. The “Jailer” had failed; now, only the truth could protect her.