Page 19 of The Boss
Magnus took a step, shoulders bunching like he wanted a fight. Leif didn’t move, but the room felt the significance of his decision, the next ten seconds bending to his will like metal under heat. Power gathered dark and quiet, as unmistakable as thunder rolling close.
“Careful,” Leif said softly. “You’re looking in the wrong direction.”
Alaric lifted two fingers, asubtle stay. “Let’s work the facts. The blast was keyed to the meeting, not to your location in the foyer. That points to schedule intel, not proximity tracking. The payload was modest—enough to cripple and cause panic, notenough to take the building. Whoever placed it wanted survivors who’d talk.” He glanced at Mariah. “And witnesses who could be framed.”
Magnus snorted. “You’re defending her?”
“I’m weighing,” Alaric said. “There’s a difference.” He turned to Leif. “Security roster shows three substitutions in the last twenty-four hours. Two sick calls, one ‘family emergency.’ We’re verifying. Also, the florist added extra arrangements to the conference table after inspection, adetail that hadn’t been cleared through the usual channels.”
Leif’s hand landed on the back of the sofa, fingers biting the leather. “So we start with the roster and the florist.”
“And the guest list,” Magnus said. “The ones who left early. The ones who arrived late. The ones who changed their plus-one at the door.” He lifted his chin toward Mariah. “Like her.”
“She was with me,” Leif said. Simple. Absolute. “Track something else.”
The words landed inside Mariah like a brand gone hot, claimed and defended. Dangerous. “I walked into your world for personal reasons, not because I was paid to light it on fire,” she said, keeping her tone flat. “And I bled in your hallway. You can still see it on the marble if you need a keepsake.”
A knock sounded and one of Leif’s men stepped in, carrying a garment bag and a small tote. “From her place,” he said, eyes respectfully averted. Leif nodded. Mariah reached for the bag by reflex and then paused when the man added, “Door was locked. No sign of entry.” A breath she hadn’t noticed holding eased out. The man withdrew.
Alaric’s attention tracked the exchange. “We’ll pull the tower pings for the Alabaster and adjacent blocks,” he wenton. “Cross-reference devices that went dark during the loop. People turn off their phones when they’re doing something they shouldn’t.”
“Do it,” Leif said. “And lean on the club manager. He knows more than he’s said.”
“He’ll talk,” Alaric answered mildly, which meant he’d already started makinghim.
Magnus folded his arms. “If she’s a leak, keeping her here is a mistake.”
Leif shifted, afraction. The room changed temperature. “She’s not leaving.” The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be. “Until we know who did this, she stays with me.” He let the implication sit. Not protection alone. Not logistics. Choice.
“Not a hostage,” Mariah said quietly, because the distinction mattered. “A decision.”
Leif’s gaze cut to her, heat and something darker moving there. “Exactly.”
Magnus’s mouth twisted. “And when the rumor mill gets a whiff that the Boss kept his latest iteration of trouble under his roof the night the alliance nearly went up in smoke?”
Leif’s answer was all ice. “Then they’ll know I’m not rattled. And that I finish what touches me.”
Silence stretched, edged with the faint grit of traffic far below. The skyline glittered like shards of glass. Mariah’s palm heated—an answering pulse where the Brand lived. She slid her hand into her pocket to hide the telltale glow, but Magnus’s eyes flicked there, quick as a hawk. For a beat, his gaze sharpened, and she wondered what he saw—instinct, suspicion, or a truth he wasn’t ready toname?
Leif prowled a step, restless energy caged in muscle and will. “Work every angle. Iwant a name before midnight.”
Magnus lifted his chin. “And if the name is standing in this room?”
Leif’s smile was spare and lethal. “Then I’ll handle it.”
For a long second no one breathed. Then Magnus looked away first, the concession small but real. “Fine. I’ll start with the service corridor and the fire door.” He jabbed a finger at Mariah on his way past. “Stay where I can find you.”
“Try your eyes,” she said, sugar over steel.
He huffed something not quite a laugh and stalkedout.
Alaric lingered. He studied Mariah like a puzzle, not a target, then tipped his head. “If someone wanted you dead, they miscalculated. If someone wanted you blamed, they overcalculated.”
“Or they wanted both,” she said. “Dead is clean. Blame is leverage. Having both options is control.”
His eyes warmed a degree. “You think like us.”
“I think like someone who’s had to survive being around you.” It came out before she could sand the edge off it. She didn’t take itback.
