I couldn’t exactly say, “Well, Lee, you know… when a crime lord goes down, unfortunately the crime doesn’t go away. Instead, there’s a war to see who will be the new king. For now, Ricky Balducci won that war. And Ricky Balducci is a lunatic. And now his three brothers and him are intent on acting out their version of a Shakespearean play by doing what they can to tear each other down in order to obtain the throne. Somehow, being the dead king’s princess, I’m caught up in this mess because Ricky isn’t the only Balducci brother who’s a lunatic. They’re all lunatics. And they’ve got it in their head that the one true king has me at his side and they’ll stop at nothing, nothing, to get me by their side. I have no family, I have no friends, I have no one but me to protect me against four insane brothers and I’m absolutely, utterly, completely terrified.”

Instead, I said, “I don’t know how to explain it…” This was true, as you could see, it was hard to explain. “I just don’t feel safe.”

“You’ll have to give me something more to go on, Ms. Townsend,” Lee said to me.

My hands curled into fists in my lap so tight, my nails dug into my palms rather painfully. This was the only reaction I showed to the possibility that this wasn’t going very well. I knew Lee couldn’t see my hands, what I didn’t know was that Hector could.

“I’ll double your fee.” As my father would say, if you meet with resistance, try throwing money at it first.

“Doubling my fee isn’t going to lighten my caseload,” Lee replied.

Oh my.

That was not good news.

Lee was opening a drawer; he sorted through it and took out a card.

“I’m not taking on any new clients right now. If this was an urgent situation, we’d consider it. Since it’s just a feeling, I’m sorry but I’ll have to refer you to Dick Anderson.”

He stood and rounded the desk. I stared at him again concentrating on not hyperventilating.

He couldn’t say no. He was the best in the business. Everyone knew about him and the Nightingale Men. They could keep me safe.

I didn’t know Dick Anderson. Dick Anderson sounded like the name of a TV private eye. I didn’t want a wisecracking TV private eye who wore Hawaiian shirts or forgot to shave. I wanted scary but handsome Nightingale Men who’d put the fear of God into you by just cracking their knuckles.

I stood as Lee made it to my chair.

“Lee, please, reconsider,” I said, looking up at him, using his given name, trying to take the formality out of it, wondering how I could explain without sounding like a moron or a conceited Daddy’s little rich bitch.

He was super-tall then again, since I was five foot five, even in four inch heels, most men were taller than me.

“I’m sorry Ms. Townsend,” Lee said.

That’s when I lost it, lost control for the briefest moment because, truly, not kidding, the Balducci brothers were scaring me out of my mind. I knew something was going to happen, I knew it.

I leaned forward just a bit and couldn’t stop myself from whispering, “Please.”

Something flickered in Lee’s eyes; they looked over my shoulder at Hector for an instant then back to me.

“Call Dick,” he said with finality but his voice, which had been professional and cordial but slightly cold, had become a bit warmer and softer but a warmer and softer voice meant nothing to me in my current predicament. “He’s a good man,” Lee finished.

I looked at him for one second then two. Then I nodded and turned.

I took two steps and stopped.

Hector was standing and staring down on me. He’d lost the disgusted look and his face was now just blank.

He looked good. Still rough but more handsome than ever.

I’d never have the chance again and even though I didn’t know what came over me (maybe it was the specter of The Real Sadie bursting out for a moment), I looked Hector in the eye and said with genuine feeling, “I hope you’re well, Hector.”

Then I looked away, squared my shoulders and left.

Chapter One

Peace

Sadie

I turned my black, convertible Mercedes SLK into the parking garage under the Nightingale Investigations offices and swiped again at my eyes thus swerving again and barely missing the wall before I righted the car.

I had no idea how I got there, maybe a mixture of luck and adrenalin.

I had no idea why I even went there except it was close to my apartment. Not to mention, I was together enough to know I couldn’t go to the police. Also not to mention, it was in my mind since I’d been there that very afternoon.

But really, who cared? I was there. It was as good a place as any.

My car was a mess, I’d hit a couple of things on the way, I didn’t know what. I felt the bumps, heard the crunching and scrapes but I just kept going.

I didn’t park. I stopped on a screech of tires when I saw the door leading to the stairs. I couldn’t wait for the elevator, Ricky could be right behind me not to mention, I wasn’t sure I could stand.

I threw open my car door and just that took a lot out of me. So much that when I tried to get out, I fell forward on all fours (or all threes, as that was all the extremities I had working for me at that moment) to the concrete floor.

This took a lot out of me too. So much that I threw up right there. I couldn’t see much, the sweat and blood were stinging my swelling eyes but I could see there was blood mixed with the bile on the pavement. I could also see my manicure was ruined which pretty much stunk but at that moment it was the least of my worries.

I pulled myself up using the car door and my one good hand. My other hand and arm were useless to me. Actually, my body was pretty useless considering that every inch of it screamed out in pain but I tried to ignore that. I wasn’t really certain that continuing to breathe was a good goal but my body for some reason wasn’t letting me give up.

I got to my feet and lurched forward.

I was in my nightgown or what was left of it. I knew I had no underwear on. I had no idea if the remains of my nightgown were covering me, if I was decent.

I’d deal with that new humiliation later (if I got the chance).

I staggered to the door with the stenciled sign that read “STAIRS”. It took me two tries but I got it open and I pushed myself through.

* * * * *

Jack

Jack Tatum stared at the screens in the Nightingale Investigations surveillance room.

Jack took night duty four or five times a week. The men thought he was crazy but he liked it.