Chapter 3 - The Danger in Queens
Vincent didn't leave.
He stayed in the hospital waiting room for the remaining two hours of Hannah’s shift. When hospital administrators tried to tell his security team they couldn't park in the ambulance bay, Frank simply showed a badge of municipal clearance, and the administrators suddenly offered Vincent private coffee.
At 11:30 p.m., Hannah emerged from the locker room in an oversized sweater and faded jeans, carrying Sophie, who was now fast asleep with her head on Hannah’s shoulder.
“I can call a cab,” Hannah said nervously as they reached the curb.
“You took one cab ride too many tonight,” Vincent said, opening the door of his private vehicle. “Get in.”
Hannah hesitated, but the exhaustion in her bones won. She climbed inside, marveling at the quiet, heated luxury of the interior.
As the car crossed the bridge into Queens, Hannah finally found her voice.
“Rebecca told me you were… influential,” she murmured, glancing at the bodyguard in the front passenger seat. “She didn't mention you traveled with an army.”
“Rebecca talks too much,” Vincent said simply.
“Why did you stay? You could have handed Sophie to the police and gone home.”
Vincent looked at Sophie’s sleeping face. Her small hand was still clutching the fabric of his coat sleeve where she had held onto him earlier.
“Because a five-year-old crossed the East River in a thunderstorm to make sure I wasn't insulted,” Vincent said. “The least I could do was make sure she got home safe.”
Hannah looked at him, her green eyes softening with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, Vincent. You have no idea what she means to me. Her father left before she was born. It’s just been the two of us.”
“I know what family means,” Vincent replied.
When the SUV pulled up outside Hannah’s modest brownstone apartment building in Astoria, Vincent’s eyes narrowed instantly.
A battered black sedan was parked across the driveway, its engine idling. Two men in leather jackets were standing on the front porch, kicking the door and shouting at the windows.
Hannah’s breath hitched in terror.
“Oh no,” she whispered, pulling Sophie closer. “Not tonight.”
Vincent didn't raise his voice. He simply leaned forward and tapped Frank’s shoulder.
“Who are they?”
Hannah swallowed hard. “My landlord sold the building two weeks ago to a private development company. They’ve been sending thugs to harass the remaining tenants out so they can demolish the block without paying relocation fees. They've smashed mailboxes, cut the hot water, and threatened my neighbors.”
Vincent’s jaw set like iron.
“Frank,” Vincent said softly.
May you like
“Yes, Boss?”
“Introduce yourselves. Quietly. Do not wake the child.”
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