“I think we’re going to have extra company onboard until we get into port,” Manuel said. “The Navy guys and gals are staying for our protection, and to make sure there are enough people to steer this thing.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” she told her second cook. Mentally, she began to calculate how much food she needed to make. Definitely a larger portion than normal, simply because people were hungry. They’d need protein and carbs, and it would need to be something fast and easy. Maybe chicken parmesan with plenty of noodles.
She’d been so lost in her head, she’d almost forgotten Scott was standing there. Manuel headed for the pantry and the galley, and she looked up at the SEAL in front of her. He had a small smile on his face.
“What?” she asked a little self-consciously.
“You like what you do.”
“I do,” she agreed. “Are you and your team staying, or the other SEAL team?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Scott told her, and Elodie couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “But you’ve got my number. You can talk to me anytime you want,” he reminded her.
Elodie wanted to be able to give him her number in return, but she didn’t have a cell phone. Didn’t even have an email address. She’d found out the hard way how easy that stuff was to track. Besides, she didn’t have anyone she wanted to stay in contact with. No family. No friends. She was truly alone in the world.
“Thank you again for saving my life,” Scott said.
“Thank you for saving mine,” Elodie retorted.
“Be happy,” he told her as he took a step toward the exit.
“You stay safe out there,” Elodie returned.
“Always.”
Then he nodded at her and disappeared through the door.
Elodie stood in the middle of the crew dining area staring at the door for several moments. Her life had been so crazy in the last twenty-four hours, she wouldn’t have believed it was possible if she hadn’t lived through it.
“Rachel! Get a move on!” Manuel called out teasingly.
Closing her eyes for a second, Elodie patted her back pocket, making sure the paper was still there before turning and heading for the galley. She had no idea what her next steps would be, but it was nice to have at least one option, even if that option would put Scott and his team in danger. She didn’t think she’d accept his offer, but it was comforting to have all the same.
Putting thoughts of what she was going to do once the ship arrived at port out of her head, Elodie concentrated on doing what she did best…cooking.
Days later, Paul Columbus sat in his office in New York City and stewed. He owned the entire fiftieth floor of the apartment complex he lived in. The penthouse. He had more money than he could spend in two lifetimes. People both feared and respected him.
And yet he was deeply unsettled.
Being the head of one of the most powerful mob families in New York meant he had to constantly be on his toes. It wasn’t as easy to escape the scrutiny of the law as it had been in the old days. His grandfather used to pay off the cops, and that left him free to do pretty much whatever he wanted.
Paul’s father had to be more careful, but he’d still had some of the older detectives on his payroll. After he’d died, Paul had done what he could to cultivate friends on the police force—even through coercion and blackmail—but he hadn’t been very successful. That meant he had to run his empire with extreme caution.
He relied heavily on his people. And months ago, after a thorough search, he’d found who he’d thought was the perfect addition to his staff. The damn woman had almost no one. No family. Few friends. She also had no street smarts. She was incredibly naïve…the perfect choice to groom for his organization.
He’d treated her kindly, done his best to make her feel at home, to build her loyalty to the family, and he’d thought he’d succeeded. She’d seemed happy and content. Grateful.
Which was what he needed.
Without cops on his payroll, it was damn difficult to kill his enemies. His grandfather had had it easy compared to him. Paul had no idea how many men his grandfather had gotten rid of in his lifetime, but he hadn’t spent a single day behind bars for his actions, thanks to an army of law enforcement at his back.
Paul, conversely, had surrounded himself with loyal employees. People who did anything and everything he requested, including lying their asses off to the authorities when necessary. In return, they received generous salaries, nice places to live in the city, and became a part of his influential family.
But his private chef…
Paul had a lot of enemies. Shooting them was messy and noisy. And with all the cameras in the damn city, hit-and-runs would inevitably be captured on film.
But killing someone in the privacy of his home? Without them fighting back? Without the mark even knowing what was happening until it was too late? That was ideal. He could dump the bodies in the river and make it look like a drowning. Stick a syringe in their arm and leave the stiff in a back alley somewhere.
There were countless creative ways he could get rid of bodies once they were poisoned.
And Paul thought he’d found the perfect person to assist in his plan.
He’d been wrong.
Dead wrong.
When he’d approached his chef, explained what he wanted her to do…she’d had the gall to say no! To him.
She was in his house, and under his protection. She should’ve said “yes, sir,” and done what he’d asked. That was the only acceptable response.
All she had to do was put some of the arsenic he’d secured into one of the bowls of soup she’d been planning on serving for dinner. That was it. His mark had already been arrested a few times for selling drugs, so when his body was found, the cops would just assume he’d overdosed. It was the perfect plan—except for the bitch shaking her head and gaping at him in shock when he’d told her what to do.
Paul hadn’t been able to make her pay for such disloyalty right then and there; he’d had dinner guests waiting. But he’d definitely gotten his point across that she was in deep shit.
After his guests left, he’d planned on making doubly sure his chef understood she wasn’t allowed to say no to him. Ever. That she’d do anything he told her to do from now on.
But she’d bolted. Hadn’t even taken most of her belongings with her. No, the only thing she’d taken was a small bag…and she’d dumped the damn bottle of arsenic he’d left in the kitchen, in the hopes she’d come to her senses.
Stupid bitch. She was too stupid to even take the bottle with her…the only evidence.
But she still had something on him. Still knew his plan. And there was no way Paul Columbus was going to chance being taken down by a thirty-something mousy fucking cook. A dumb one at that.
Paul stood and paced his office, mumbling under his breath. Occasionally he gripped his hair tightly, his gait twitching as he walked back and forth. Small tells his son would have noticed in a heartbeat.
Paul knew his eldest son, Jerry, thought his old man was crazy—but he wasn’t. He’d do anything to safeguard his family and his name. And the fact that there was a woman out there who knew what he’d planned for his dinner guest, and who could go to the cops with her suspicions, was eating at him.