Chapter 4

The glass dish of lasagna tilted dangerously in Brenda's hands. She sucked in a massive, theatrical gasp.

Elsie scrambled off Donat as if his skin were made of acid. Her face was so red it looked bruised.

"Brenda! It's-it's not what it looks like!" Elsie stammered, frantically waving her hands.

Donat didn't flinch. He calmly reached down, pulled the gray fleece blanket up over his waist, and leaned back against the broken headboard. He looked at the plump woman in the doorway with lazy, unapologetic eyes.

Brenda slapped a hand over her eyes, but her fingers were spread wide open. A massive grin stretched across her face.

"Oh, honey!" Brenda squealed. "I didn't see a thing! I am just so happy you finally moved on from that deadbeat ex of yours!"

Elsie practically sprinted across the room. She grabbed Brenda's thick arm, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "Brenda, please. You can't tell anyone about this. Please."

Brenda patted Elsie's hand, her eyes darting past Elsie's shoulder to stare at Donat's chest. "My lips are sealed, sweetie. Absolutely sealed."

She set the lasagna on the small dining table, humming a cheerful country tune, and backed out of the apartment. The deadbolt clicked loudly as she locked them in.

Elsie pressed her back against the door and slid down to the floor. She buried her face in her hands and let out a long, pathetic groan.

From the bedroom, a deep, rumbling laugh echoed. Donat was enjoying this.

Elsie grabbed a throw pillow from the floor and hurled it violently at the bedroom door. "You're a bastard!"

At 3:00 PM, the rumble of the yellow school bus sounded from the street below.

The front door burst open. Seven-year-old Ethan ran in, his oversized backpack bouncing against his spine.

He stopped, his nose twitching. "Lasagna!"

He dropped his bag and ran toward the kitchen, but the sound of movement in the bedroom caught his attention.

Ethan pushed the half-open door wider.

He froze.

Donat was sitting up in bed. He looked at the small boy. Donat's jaw tightened, his entire posture stiffening with immediate, instinctual repulsion. He did not like children.

Elsie walked out of the kitchen with a glass of water. She saw Ethan standing in the doorway and her heart stopped.

She rushed forward, grabbing Ethan's shoulder to pull him away.

Ethan pointed a small finger at the bed. He looked up at Elsie, his voice loud and clear. "Mom, is this my new dad?"

Elsie felt the blood drain from her face. "What? Who told you that?"

"Mrs. Brenda," Ethan said innocently. "She told everyone in the lobby that you have a really handsome boyfriend living here and he's gonna be my stepdad."

Elsie thought she might actually vomit. Brenda's "sealed lips" hadn't lasted three hours.

Donat's cold eyes narrowed. The amusement vanished from his face, replaced by a chilling calculation.

"If the whole building is talking about a new man in your apartment," Donat said, his voice cutting through Elsie's panic like a scalpel, "the people looking for me will hear about it."

He looked at Elsie. "A single woman hiding a wounded man is a target. A mother living with her new boyfriend is invisible."

Elsie shook her head frantically. "No. I am not bringing my son into this lie. It's dangerous."

Donat leaned forward, his eyes black and merciless. "If you don't do this, the men who shot me will kick that door down tomorrow, and they will kill all three of us."

Elsie looked at Ethan, who was staring at Donat with wide, curious eyes. Her chest tightened painfully. She closed her eyes, the defeat tasting bitter on her tongue.

"Fine," she whispered.

Donat turned his gaze to Ethan. He forced the corners of his mouth up into a stiff, terrifying approximation of a smile.

Ethan wasn't scared. He walked right up to the bed, reached out, and tapped the glass of the Patek Philippe on Donat's wrist.

"Cool watch," Ethan said.

Donat stared at the small finger touching his two-hundred-thousand-dollar timepiece, and for the first time, he looked entirely out of his depth.