Chapter 1 - The Seat Nobody Dared to Take
At midnight, Chantelle wanted exactly three things. A seat. Forty minutes of silence. And enough strength to make it home. After fourteen hours carrying trays through two restaurant shifts, her feet felt like they had been hammered flat. Rain followed her into the downtown station, dripping from her cheap umbrella while the approaching train screamed against the rails. When the doors opened, the carriage was crowded.
Chantelle sighed. “Of course.”
She grabbed a steel pole and prepared to stand. Then she saw the empty seat. It was near the middle of the carriage, beside a broad-shouldered man in a charcoal suit. Chantelle didn't question her luck. “Excuse me.” She dropped into the seat, put her canvas bag between her shoes, leaned against the partition, and closed her eyes.
Three stops later, she noticed the silence. Not ordinary late-night quiet. Fear. Across the aisle, a young woman stared at a black phone screen. Two men near the forward doors watched the carriage instead of their phones. Two more stood near the rear. Then Chantelle finally looked at the stranger beside her. Custom suit. Scarred knuckles. Silver ring. Black shirt. And a thick pale scar running from beneath his left ear toward his collar.
Nobody was sitting near him. Nobody was even standing near him. Except her.
One of the men by the doors caught Chantelle staring and gave her a look that seemed to ask whether she understood what she had done. She did now. Her pulse accelerated. She considered standing. Then her aching feet reminded her why she had sat down. Chantelle reached into her bag, removed a battered paperback, and opened it. The scarred man finally looked at her.
Devlin Murphy had spent most of his adult life watching people become nervous when he entered rooms. Tonight, one exhausted waitress had apparently missed the announcement. His motorcade had been followed near the docks. He had abandoned the cars and moved underground with four security men. They had established a perimeter without speaking. Every passenger understood it. Except Chantelle.
Devlin had initially wondered whether she was an assassin. Then she sighed, closed her eyes, and nearly fell asleep. Now she was pretending to read. The train rocked. Her shoulder touched his arm.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
Devlin turned. “You should move.”
Chantelle swallowed. “My feet hurt.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Excuse me?”
“I've been standing for fourteen hours.”
“That's unfortunate.”
“So is your personality.”
One of Devlin's guards looked over. Devlin stared at her. Chantelle immediately regretted the sentence. But she was too tired to surrender. “If you want the entire row,” she added, “you should have bought two tickets.”
“This is a subway.”
“Then I guess we're both learning something tonight.”
For several seconds, Devlin said nothing. Then the corner of his mouth moved almost imperceptibly. “Brave,” he murmured. “Or stupid.”
“Just tired.” She looked back at her book.
Ten minutes passed. Then the carriage lights flickered. Devlin changed instantly. His amusement vanished. His eyes moved toward the forward doors. One hand disappeared beneath his jacket.
Chantelle noticed. “What is—”
“Get down.”
The train slammed on its brakes. Passengers screamed. Chantelle pitched forward. Devlin caught her across the chest and dragged her down between the seats before she struck the metal partition. “Keep your head down.”
Emergency lights flooded the carriage in dim red. The train had stopped inside the tunnel. Devlin's four men moved immediately. “Forward car,” one said. “Locked,” another answered.
Devlin crouched beside Chantelle. “Phone.”
“What?”
“Give me your phone.”
She stared at him. “You already have four terrifying employees. Why do you need mine?”
Devlin extended his hand. “Because whoever stopped this train may be tracking mine.”
That erased her sarcasm. She handed it over. Devlin looked at the cracked screen. “You need a new phone.”
“You offering?”
“No.”
“Then don't criticize it.”
Despite the situation, one of the guards almost smiled. A metallic bang sounded from the next carriage. Everyone froze. Devlin handed the phone back. “Stay behind me.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever is coming isn't here for you.”
Another bang. Closer. Chantelle looked toward the frightened passengers. A little boy was crying against his mother's coat. An elderly man had fallen during the stop. “This train is full of people.”
“I noticed.”
“So whatever trouble followed you here—”
Devlin's cold gaze met hers. “I didn't bring them.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the men hunting me don't stop trains.” He looked toward the dark tunnel. “They make them disappear.”
A guard approached. “Boss.”
Devlin stood. “What?”
“The emergency door between cars was manually released.”
“From which side?”
The guard hesitated. “Both.”
Devlin's expression hardened. Chantelle understood before anyone said it. Someone was already inside their carriage. Devlin slowly looked across the passengers. So did his guards. Forty strangers stared back. Then Chantelle noticed something. A man near the rear doors wasn't frightened. Everyone else was watching Devlin. That man was watching the exits.
Chantelle whispered, “Devlin.”
His eyes snapped toward her. She nodded toward the rear. “The gray jacket.”
The man looked up. For one second, his eyes met Devlin's. Then he ran.
“Stop him!”
May you like
Devlin's men moved. The carriage erupted. And Chantelle realized that taking the only empty seat had just placed her in the middle of something much larger than a midnight commute.
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