Chapter 3 - THE MOLE IN THE WALLS
Maya stumbled as Roman dragged her down the emergency stairwell, the heavy fire doors echoing behind them.
"I can't go with you!" Maya gasped, trying to pry his iron grip off her wrist. "I have a shift! If I lose this job, the bank takes my apartment on Friday! I have nowhere to go!"
"If you go back to that lobby, you won't need an apartment. You'll need a casket," Roman snapped, not slowing down. "The floor manager. What's his name?"
"Mr. Vance," Maya stammered, terrified by the sudden question.
"Vance," Roman repeated, pulling his phone from his pocket. He typed rapidly with one thumb. "He bypassed the VIP floor security protocols to let the Russians in. The cameras are looping."
Roman stopped abruptly on the 14th-floor landing. He stared at his phone screen. "Dammit."
"What?" Maya whispered.
"My accounts are frozen. The safe houses are locked out of the grid," Roman said, his voice dangerously calm. "My father didn't just order a hit. He orchestrated a complete coup. He thinks I'm dead, and he's erasing my empire."
Maya stared at this terrifying, beautiful man. "Why would a father do that to his own son?"
Roman looked at her, his eyes darkening. "Because I found out what he's been hiding. And I took it."
Before Maya could ask what he meant, the stairwell door two floors below them burst open. Heavy boots pounded on the concrete.
"Check the landings!" a voice barked.
Roman shoved Maya behind him. He didn't head down. He kicked open the door to the 14th floor—the maintenance level.
They darted into the labyrinth of exposed pipes and humming generators. Maya knew this floor; the maids used it to hide from Vance. "This way," she whispered, grabbing Roman’s sleeve. "The laundry chute. It drops straight to the basement loading dock."
Roman followed her. They reached the massive steel chute just as flashlights swept the far end of the hall. Roman lifted Maya effortlessly, sliding her into the dark metal tube. He followed right behind her.
They tumbled into a pile of dirty hotel linens in the dark, damp basement. Maya scrambled out, her heart hammering.
"My car is in the employee lot," Maya breathed. "It's an old Honda. They won't look twice."
Roman nodded, clearly impressed. But as they stepped out into the rainy Chicago night, an SUV’s headlights flipped on, blinding them. Two men stepped out with shotguns.
Roman pushed Maya hard to the asphalt. Gunfire erupted, shattering the windows of a nearby van. Roman returned fire, dropping one man, but a shotgun blast grazed his shoulder. He grunted, stumbling back against a brick wall.
"The keys!" Roman yelled over the gunfire.
May you like
Maya threw them. Roman didn't catch them with his good hand. He tossed them back.
"You drive," he gasped, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "To the only place they won't look."
