The bullet meant for mafia boss Damon Cross hit his waitress instead. Keisha Monroe had just thrown herself across his table when the shot tore into her shoulder, sending champagne glasses exploding across the marble floor.

“I don’t have anything!” Keisha’s voice rose in panic, her good hand gripping the thin hospital blanket. “I barely have enough money to pay my rent! What ledger are you talking about?”

“I know you don’t,” Damon murmured soothingly, though his eyes flashed with a dangerous fire. “But Vance doesn’t know that. And as long as they believe you possess it, you are the most hunted target in this city.”

Keisha stared at him, her chest heaving as fear and anger warred inside her.

“So what happens now?” she asked, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper. “Do I just run? Hide in a hole somewhere?”

Damon stood straight up, straightening his cuffs with an air of absolute dominion that seemed to fill the entire room.

“Run?” Damon repeated, a dark, dangerous smile finally breaking across his face. “In my city, nobody runs from a fight they didn’t start. Especially not the people who stand in front of my bullet.”

He turned toward the door, where his lead enforcer stood waiting anxiously outside the glass panel.

“Double the security on this floor,” Damon ordered without looking back. “Bring me every file we have on Arthur Vance’s private security details and personal residences by midnight.”

He glanced back at Keisha one last time before stepping toward the exit.

“Rest up, Keisha Monroe,” the mafia boss said softly. “Starting tomorrow, the hunters are going to find out what happens when they try to kill someone under the protection of Damon Cross.”