Chapter 4 - Fugitive
The mahogany doors splintered inward. Eleanor didn't hesitate. She kicked off her heels and sprinted toward the balcony.
"Stop her!" one of the guards yelled, drawing a weapon.
Eleanor vaulted over the balcony railing just as a bullet shattered the stone where she had been standing. She landed hard on the catering awning below, the fabric tearing as she slid down, crashing into a pile of empty cardboard boxes in the alley.
A strong hand hauled her up. It was Jax.
"Move," he commanded.
They sprinted through the rain-slicked alleys of Manhattan, sirens already wailing in the distance. The entire city would soon be hunting her. The untouchable billionaire was now a prime suspect in the assassination of a United States Senator.
An hour later, they were in a damp, windowless basement in Queens—one of Jax’s many safehouses. Eleanor sat on a cot, her black gown torn and soaked.
Her phone buzzed. It was a burner device Jax had handed her. She answered it.
"Eleanor! Thank God," Marcus’s voice panicked through the speaker. "The police are at the office. They’re saying you killed Hayes. Tell me where you are, I’ll send our private security to extract you."
Eleanor opened her mouth to tell him her location, but she froze.
Someone close to you, Eleanor.
She remembered the bakery. Marcus had been standing right next to her. Marcus had been looking down at his tablet, completely ignoring the spilled coffee. Marcus, who managed all of Vance Holdings' offshore accounts.
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"I'm at the shipyard in Brooklyn, Marcus," Eleanor lied smoothly, her heart pounding against her ribs. "Pier 44. Come alone."
She hung up, crushing the burner phone beneath her heel. She looked at Jax. "It’s Marcus. He’s the one who took my son."
