Chapter 4 - The Third-Floor Suite
When Gabriel returned to the penthouse at three o'clock that afternoon, the atmosphere inside the massive, quiet residence had fundamentally changed.
For three years, the penthouse had been a temple of glass, polished marble, and cold, sterile perfection. Now, as Gabriel walked through the grand foyer, he heard a sound that had never once echoed off these walls.
A soft, high-pitched giggle.
Gabriel walked past the grand living room toward the east wing. He found Hannah sitting on the plush rug of the third-floor guest suite, surrounded by half a dozen plastic soft-blocks and a plush white bear that Lucian had apparently instructed security to buy from a boutique downtown.
Hannah looked up as Gabriel entered. She had changed out of her navy uniform into a simple gray sweater and jeans. She looked smaller without the apron, younger, but the dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of years of relentless stress.
She stood up quickly, her posture instantly rigid with deference. "Mr. Marlowe."
Gabriel held up a hand. "Sit down, Hannah."
He stepped into the room, his eyes sweeping over the suite. Lucian’s men had already moved three heavy security trunks inside. A wooden crib—brand new and smelling of fresh cedar—sat against the far wall.
Chloe was sitting on her bottom in the middle of the rug, wearing a clean yellow onesie. When she saw Gabriel, her eyes widened, her tiny mouth forming an 'O' of recognition. She immediately abandoned her plush bear and began crawling toward him with ferocious speed.
Gabriel stopped. He looked down as Chloe reached his leather shoes, grabbed his trouser legs, and used his knee to pull herself up onto her wobbly legs.
She stood there, balancing precariously, look up into his face with absolute triumph.
Hannah let out a soft breath. "She usually doesn't like strangers. She cried for two days when the pediatrician visited last month."
"I’m not a stranger," Gabriel said quietly, kneeling down until he was at eye level with the child. "I’m the landlord."
Chloe babbled something incoherent, reaching out with both hands to slap his cheeks. Her hands were small, sticky with apple puree, and completely warm.
Gabriel didn't move. He let the most dangerous man in New York get hit in the face by an eight-month-old child, feeling a strange, deep warmth spread through his chest—a feeling he hadn't experienced since he was a boy before the streets took his soul.
"Where is her father?" Gabriel asked, his eyes never leaving Chloe’s face.
Hannah’s posture stiffened. She looked down at her lap. "His name is Mark. We were married for three years. He worked in commercial real estate... or so I thought. Two months after Chloe was born, I found out he was deep in debt to loan sharks in Queens. He emptied our savings, took out a second mortgage on our apartment without my knowledge, and vanished overnight."
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Loan sharks in Queens? Which crew?"
"I don't know," Hannah whispered, tears pricking her eyes. "All I know is that three weeks after he left, two men came to my door. They told me Mark owed them two hundred thousand dollars. They said if I didn't pay it, they’d take Chloe to settle the account."
The room went icy cold.
Gabriel slowly turned his head to look at Hannah. The soft warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a razor-sharp, lethal focus. "They threatened the child?"
"That’s why I left," Hannah cried softly. "I packed one bag, took Chloe, and moved into a shelter in the Bronx. But the shelter wasn't safe. People stole our food, our clothes... that’s why I started bringing her here. I knew your building had private armed guards at the lobby. I knew no one from Queens could get past your front desk. Your penthouse was the safest place in New York."
Gabriel stood up slowly to his full height. He looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows toward the grey skyline of Queens across the river.
He realized the cosmic irony of it all. Hannah hadn't brought her daughter to a mansion to hide from a boss. She had brought her into the heart of a fortress to protect her from monsters—unaware that the master of the fortress was the biggest monster of them all.
"Lucian," Gabriel said smoothly into his wrist comms.
May you like
"Yeah, boss?" Lucian’s voice came back instantly.
"Run a full trace on a man named Mark Price. Commercial real estate. Find out which crew in Queens holds his paper." Gabriel’s voice was as cold as iron. "And tell them that if anyone from their side of the river mentions the name Hannah or Chloe... I’ll burn Queens to the ground."
