Page 180 of When Hearts Remember

I’m the key to everything.

The sharp, briny scent of the Hudson floats to my nose and I hold my breath as I tiptoe on the deck toward the singular room with the lights on.

Pepper spray. Check.

Panic button. Check.

It’s only Dayton. He won’t hurt me. I know he won’t.

I hear voices as the suite door comes into view. Someone groans.

“You don’t need to do this.” A strained exhale. “We can work something out.”

Ethan.But he sounds like he’s in pain.

“Shut up. Let me think!” More muffling sounds. “One mistake. One damn mistake and I’m stuck in this fucking mess,” Dayton mutters.

My pulse clatters inside my ears.

Ethan knows nothing. I do. And I have the evidence. Dayton doesn’t need to hurt him. I need to calm him down. Dayton will listen to me, I know it.

Determined, I take a deep breath and stride into the room. “Dayton, whatever you’re thinking, don’t do this.”

The two men swivel their attention to me. Dayton pulls his hair, his eyes wild with disbelief.

Ethan is tied up on the floor, blood seeping from his temple. Upon seeing me, he strains against the binds around his wrists and ankles. His mouth is now gagged, but I hear him yelling my name.

Automatically, I take a step toward him, but then I remember why I’m here. I need to talk some sense into Dayton. I remember the charming guy who whisked me down the halls at Broadbent, cheering me up whenever my parents made me upset. The guy with dreams of becoming something great when he grows up.

I can get through to him.

“Dayton, don’t do this. I don’t know why you stole from Fleur. But it’s not worth it. Don’t throw your future away.” I look at Ethan, who’s still struggling unsuccessfully with his binds. “We’ll forget about this, okay? None of this happened. We can all walk away.”

Fifteen minutes. The average response time of the NYPD. I remember reading this somewhere. I just need to hold on for another five to ten minutes and the cops will be here.

“Lexy,” Dayton buries his face in his hands. “You remember that fund I started in college? I only wanted to make it successful. I invested everything into it—it was my ticket to make a name for myself. When he reached out to me, saying he could fill in the gaps of my initial losses, that I could pay him back with the profits later on, I didn’t hesitate.”

“What? Who?” I reach inside my bag to grab the pepper spray.

Dayton doesn’t have a weapon. Maybe I can incapacitate him if talking doesn’t work.

Dayton ignores my question and continues rambling. “I didn’t even think about why he’d want me to help him, but you know what? When I asked, he said it was because I had access to you and Charles—that your family’s Bank of Columbia was also on their target list. I thought it was just introductions he needed. I didn’t know he’d—”

“Who on earth are you talking about? Who’s ‘he’?” The answer is at the tip of my tongue. The Association. Bank of Columbia. My family. Ethan’s family.

“Me.”

Another man steps out from the en suite bathroom and my mouth drops.

The light blond hair. Lips usually tilted into an easygoing smile. A face I’ve seen time and time again walking down the halls of Fleur.

Trey Spencer, Ethan’s VP of Finance, the guyeveryonelikes at Fleur.

“Trey? What? Wh-Why? Aren’t you Ethan’s friend? His mentor?” I grip the pepper spray and step backward.

His jaw works, his normally jovial face austere and angry. “Take your hand out of your purse, Alexis. I won’t ask twice.”

Slowly, he unbuttons his jacket and pulls out a gun from his holster.

---