Luca arrived in seven minutes.
Sheree knew because she counted every second.
She sat on the closed toilet lid in her bathroom, gripping a kitchen knife that she fully understood would be useless against anyone genuinely dangerous.
At minute six, tires screamed outside.
At minute seven, someone pounded on her apartment door.
“Sheree.”
Luca.
She didn't remember leaving the bathroom.
She opened the door.
He entered first.
Four men followed.
His gaze immediately moved over her face, shoulders, arms.
Checking.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Only then did he breathe normally.
Dominic entered the bedroom.
“Clear.”
Another man checked the fire escape.
Luca saw the photograph on the table.
His expression became completely blank.
Sheree had learned something about surgeons over the years.
The angriest ones often became quieter, not louder.
Luca was quiet.
It terrified her.
“Marcus?” he asked.
She nodded.
“They went through my things.”
Luca picked up the photograph by its edges.
His eyes read the message.
You should have kept walking.
His jaw flexed once.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing and tell me what happens now.”
“You leave.”
“This is my home.”
“Not tonight.”
She opened her mouth.
Then glanced at the photograph.
The fight left her.
“Fine.”
Luca nodded.
“You’ll stay at my house.”
“No.”
“Sheree.”
“A hotel.”
“Too exposed.”
“Your house?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds insane.”
“Probably.”
Despite everything, she almost laughed.
“Do you live with twenty armed men?”
“Twelve.”
Her stare sharpened.
“Was that a joke?”
“No.”
His home stood near Lake Michigan behind stone walls and iron gates.
Sheree expected marble statues and gold ceilings.
Instead the house was surprisingly restrained.
Dark wood.
Old books.
Large windows.
Muted paintings.
No photographs.
No signs of family.
No warmth except what came from the fireplaces.
“You live here alone?” she asked.
“Mostly.”
“That explains the personality.”
Luca looked at her.
“You insult people when frightened.”
“I insult people when awake.”
“Good to know.”
He showed her to a guest room larger than her apartment.
Sheree stood in the doorway.
“I could fit my entire kitchen in this closet.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
She turned.
“Where are you sleeping?”
His eyebrow rose.
“That sounded more personal than I intended.”
“Down the hall.”
“Good.”
“Disappointed?”
She stared at him.
Then shut the door in his face.
For the first time in weeks, Luca laughed.
The sound surprised even him.
At three in the morning, Sheree woke from a nightmare.
Marcus was in the snow.
Except when she reached him, his face changed into Luca’s.
She found Luca downstairs.
He sat in the kitchen wearing a black T-shirt, his bandage visible beneath the fabric.
A glass of water sat beside him.
“You’re awake.”
“So are you.”
“I sleep badly.”
“Me too.”
She opened the refrigerator.
Unlike hers, it contained actual food.
She found eggs.
“You have a chef?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you have six dozen eggs?”
“I don't know.”
“That is deeply suspicious.”
She began cooking.
Luca watched.
“You don’t need to make food.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because I can't sleep, and if I sit quietly I’m going to think about strangers entering my apartment.”
He said nothing.
She scrambled eggs.
“Want some?”
“Yes.”
They ate at a kitchen island at 3:30 in the morning.
For ten minutes, neither mentioned murder, betrayal, surveillance, or criminal organizations.
They simply ate eggs.
It felt bizarrely normal.
Sheree finally asked, “Why were you at the docks?”
Luca’s fork stopped.
“Business.”
“That's the answer criminals give in movies.”
“Then movies occasionally get something right.”
“Were the six people in the news yours?”
His face changed.
“Three.”
Sheree lowered her fork.
“Friends?”
“Men who had been with me for years.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded once.
The silence stretched.
“What happened?”
Luca looked toward the dark windows.
“Someone arranged a meeting. A shipment had been disappearing from one of our legitimate warehouses. Electronics. Medical equipment. We suspected theft.”
“And it was an ambush.”
“Yes.”
“You were stabbed?”
“After I ran.”
“You ran?”
“I prefer survived.”
“That sounds more dignified.”
“It is.”
Sheree smiled faintly.
Then Luca said, “The strange part is that whoever planned it wanted me alive long enough to suffer.”
She stopped smiling.
“How do you know?”
“They could have killed me immediately.”
“Instead you escaped.”
“Yes.”
“And ended up behind my dumpster.”
“Yes.”
“So whoever planned this may not only want you dead.”
“They want something else.”
“What?”
“That is what I need to learn.”
Morning brought another surprise.
A woman in her sixties entered the kitchen and nearly dropped a grocery bag when she saw Sheree.
“Oh.”
Sheree looked at Luca.
“Another bodyguard?”
“My housekeeper. Rosa.”
Rosa looked between them.
Then smiled.
A dangerous smile.
“Well.”
Luca frowned.
“Rosa.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to say breakfast.”
“You’re lying.”
“Very badly.”
Rosa turned to Sheree.
“He has never brought a woman here.”
Luca closed his eyes.
“Rosa.”
“Not once.”
Sheree covered a smile.
“Interesting.”
“It is not.”
Rosa placed the groceries down.
“Would you like coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Luca muttered something in Italian.
Rosa responded brightly.
Sheree didn't understand the words.
But she understood that Luca lost.
Later, Dominic arrived with news.
The sedan outside Sheree’s apartment had been stolen.
Security footage nearby showed two men.
One had been identified.
Evan Kessler.
A private security contractor with previous connections to Luca’s organization.
Luca’s face hardened.
“Who hired him?”
“Still tracing payments.”
Sheree stood nearby.
“You know him?”
“I fired him two years ago.”
“For what?”
Luca hesitated.
“Violence.”
She folded her arms.
“You'll need to be more specific given your profession.”
Dominic coughed into his hand.
Luca glared at him.
“He hurt someone who didn't deserve it.”
Sheree studied Luca.
“You fired him for that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because there are rules.”
“What rules?”
Luca looked directly at her.
“Children are never involved. Families are never involved. Civilians are never targets.”
“Those are surprisingly decent rules for indecent business.”
“I never claimed to be decent.”
Sheree looked down.
“You keep protecting people.”
“No.”
“You’re protecting me.”
“You saved my life.”
“You protected whoever Kessler hurt.”
Luca said nothing.
Sheree saw something beneath his silence.
Not goodness exactly.
But perhaps the memory of it.
That afternoon she received a call from St. Catherine’s.
Her nursing supervisor sounded uncomfortable.
“Sheree, we need to discuss something.”
“What happened?”
“There’s been a complaint.”
“About me?”
“An anonymous report says you removed controlled medication from the hospital.”
Sheree felt cold.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because pharmacy records show your credentials were used.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“When?”
“Saturday morning.”
Sheree had been home.
Saving Luca.
Her gaze moved toward him.
He immediately understood something was wrong.
“What?”
Sheree lowered the phone.
“They’re framing me.”
Luca rose.
“For what?”
“Stealing drugs from the hospital.”
His expression sharpened.
Suddenly the threat inside her apartment made sense.
The photograph.
The warning.
The stalking.
Whoever was hunting Luca had stopped trying simply to scare Sheree.
They were dismantling her life.
“They used my login,” Sheree whispered.
Luca walked closer.
“Listen to me.”
“My license—”
“We'll prove it.”
“My career could be over.”
“It won't be.”
“You don't know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
His eyes became cold.
“Because whoever is doing this just made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“They stopped hiding.”
Dominic's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed after three seconds.
“Luca.”
“What?”
“We traced the payment to Kessler.”
“Who paid him?”
Dominic looked at Sheree.
Then back at Luca.
“Someone inside St. Catherine’s.”
Sheree stared.
“My hospital?”
“Yes.”
Luca reached for his coat.
Sheree stepped in front of him.
“No.”
He stopped.
“No what?”
“You are not going to my hospital like some mob movie.”
“I wasn't planning—”
“You absolutely were.”
Dominic suddenly became fascinated by the floor.
Sheree pointed at Luca.
“We do this legally.”
“Legally?”
“Yes. Records. Security footage. Lawyers.”
Luca looked unconvinced.
“Evidence,” she continued. “Something that can actually clear my name.”
He stared at her for several seconds.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
She exhaled.
“But Sheree?”
“What?”
His voice lowered.
“If someone inside that hospital intentionally put you in danger, I cannot promise I'll feel charitable.”
Sheree should have been frightened.
Instead she realized something else.
She trusted him.
That realization scared her more.
---