Chapter 6 - The Pawn Turns Queen
By midafternoon, the command center was alive with tactical activity.
Gabriel and ten squad leaders stood around a large digital map of New York City displayed on the central table. Red dots highlighted Julian Vance’s known strongholds—gambling dens, underground clubs, and private docks.
“He’s locked himself inside the Grand Plaza Hotel,” Gabriel reported, tapping a location in Midtown. “He’s brought in fifty mercs from the waterfront. He’s planning to declare himself the head of the Romano family at the annual city gala tonight.”
Arthur leaned over the table, studying the blueprints of the hotel. “He’s using the gala as a shield. Hundreds of high-society guests, politicians, and media. He thinks I won't strike him in front of cameras.”
“Can you?” Maeve asked from the edge of the table.
The men turned to look at her. She was wearing a sleek dark green silk dress that Arthur’s stylists had brought for her earlier that day, her hair pinned up, revealing her long, graceful neck. She looked like she belonged in a penthouse, not behind a diner counter.
“It’s a suicide run to hit him from the front doors, Arthur,” Maeve continued, stepping toward the map. “I worked catered events at the Grand Plaza three years ago to make extra rent money.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed with interest. “Go on.”
“The service elevator in the east wing doesn't connect to the main security lobby,” Maeve explained, her finger tracing a secondary line on the blueprint. “It goes directly from the underground laundry docks to the penthouse kitchen. The staff uses keycards that aren't monitored by the front-desk security system.”
Gabriel stared at her in shock. “How do you know the keycards aren't monitored?”
“Because I used to steal leftover prime rib from the penthouse kitchen using that exact route,” Maeve replied with a small, defiant smirk. “The night shift guards leave the service door unlocked between 9:00 PM and 10:00 PM to haul out the laundry bins.”
A slow, predatory smile spread across Arthur’s face. He looked at Maeve as if she were the most extraordinary creature he had ever encountered.
“You’re brilliant, Maeve,” Arthur murmured, stepping around the table to stand beside her.
“I’m coming with you,” she said before he could object.
“Absolutely not,” Arthur snapped, his smile vanishing instantly. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Julian’s men know your faces,” Maeve countered firmly. “They don't know mine. I can blend into the catering staff, clear the service door, and drop the keycard for your men. Without me, your team will trigger the front alarm before you reach the second floor.”
Arthur stared at her, his pulse pounding in his neck. He wanted to keep her hidden in a golden cage forever where no bullet could ever touch her. But looking into her fierce brown eyes, he realized Maeve Nolan wasn't born to be a golden cage bird. She was a survivor.
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“If you go,” Arthur said, his voice dropping into an intense whisper, “you stay behind me the moment the doors open. If anything goes wrong, you run. Promise me.”
Maeve looked at him, feeling the electric current between them. “I promise.”
