Chapter 3 - Landing in the CrosshairsWhen the flight touched down on the tarmac at Miami International Airport, the humid Florida air rushed into the cabin like a heavy blanket.
Clare had spent the final two hours of the flight pacing the galley with little Leo resting securely against her chest, humming soft lullabies until the baby finally drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep. Nicholas had watched her the entire time, his gaze unblinking, tracking every movement with the intensity of a general assessing a tactical asset.
When they prepared to deplane, Nicholas had stood up, buttoned his jacket, and looked down at Clare with an expression that brooked no argument.
“You’re not taking a public cab, Ms. Jensen,” he said, his tone absolute.
“Mr. Salvatore, that’s not necessary,” Clare protested, shifting Maya sleepily onto her hip as the toddler rubbed her eyes. “My cousin is meeting me at baggage claim with a car seat—”
“Your cousin’s car is currently being watched by three men who report to a man named Richard Vance,” Nicholas interrupted smoothly, sliding a sleek black smartphone toward her. On the screen was a live security feed of the arrivals terminal, showing a familiar, furious face pacing near the baggage carousel—Richard.
Clare’s blood ran ice cold.
How did Richard find me? Panic seized her throat. She had bought the ticket using a prepaid card under her maiden name. She had paid cash for the luggage.
“He works in financial compliance,” Clare whispered, her voice shaking. “He has contacts in travel security databases. He tracked my passport number.”
“He tracked a ghost,” Nicholas replied coldly, pulling a pair of dark sunglasses from his pocket. “And now, he’s walking right into a trap he doesn't even know exists. Come with me, Clare. My vehicle is secured. Your daughter is safe. And Mr. Vance is about to learn a very expensive lesson about jurisdiction.”
Before Clare could process the terrifying reality of her situation, Nicholas’s head of security—a towering man named Victor—had gently scooped up Maya’s sleeping bag and luggage, shielding Clare and her daughter behind a wall of broad shoulders.
They bypassed baggage claim entirely, moving through a private tarmac exit where a sleek, bulletproof black SUV idled under the amber glow of the runway lights. Leo was resting quietly in a custom leather infant carrier, asleep against his father's chest.
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As the SUV merged onto the expressway, cutting through the glittering neon lights of Miami, Clare looked out the window at the palm trees swaying in the night wind. She had wanted a safe room for two weeks.
Instead, she had just walked into an impenetrable fortress.
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