Chapter 2 - THE LEDGERS THAT DIDN’T EXIST
Jonah couldn't stand.
Victor knew it.
That was why he took another step.
Stella saw the exact moment humiliation flashed across Jonah's face.
Not fear.
Something worse.
The knowledge that six months ago, Victor would never have dared come within ten feet of him carrying a threat.
Now he was approaching a wheelchair.
Victor stopped close enough to touch the footplate.
“You've got until tomorrow night.”
Jonah's voice stayed level.
“No.”
Victor smiled.
“Then I'll search the house myself.”
Stella moved before she had time to consider whether the decision was intelligent.
It wasn't.
Most of her decisions weren't.
She stepped between them.
Victor looked down at her.
“What are you doing?”
“Interrupting an incredibly boring conversation.”
Frankie made a strangled sound.
Jonah said quietly, “Stella.”
She ignored him.
“Mr. Navarro's blood pressure is climbing, his medication is due, and if you make him stroke out on my shift, I have paperwork.”
Victor stared.
“So move.”
“No.”
One of the armed men actually laughed.
Victor didn't.
His gaze dropped to Stella's nursing badge.
“You're the new one.”
“That sounded almost flattering.”
“Six nurses in three weeks.”
“Seven if you keep annoying me.”
Jonah's hand jerked sharply against the armrest.
Stella saw it.
Then another.
His breathing changed.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
The confrontation was triggering something.
She turned immediately.
“Jonah.”
“I'm fine.”
“You're not.”
Victor smiled.
“There's the mighty Navarro.”
Stella spun toward him.
“Congratulations. You successfully stressed a man with a spinal cord injury. Should we order you a trophy?”
Victor's face went cold.
Then Jonah spoke.
“Victor.”
His voice was weaker now.
Still dangerous.
“If I don't personally cancel an instruction by midnight tomorrow, every copy of the harbor records goes somewhere you won't enjoy.”
Victor's expression changed.
Small.
But unmistakable.
Stella saw it.
So did Frankie.
“What instruction?” Victor asked.
Jonah leaned back.
“Leave.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Victor lifted one hand.
His men lowered their pistols.
He straightened his wet coat.
“You always did like insurance.”
“I like punctuality more.”
Victor looked toward Stella.
“Be careful, nurse.”
“I usually am.”
Frankie coughed.
Stella frowned at him.
“Relatively.”
Victor's gaze returned to Jonah.
“Tomorrow.”
Then he turned.
The three men walked out.
Only after the front doors closed did Jonah's composure break.
His arm spasmed.
His chest tightened.
Stella dropped beside him.
“Frankie, get the blood-pressure cuff.”
Jonah's face had gone frighteningly pale.
“I said I'm fine.”
“And I'm saying you're a terrible liar.”
She checked him quickly.
His blood pressure was dangerously high.
Sweat had appeared along his forehead even though the room was cold.
Dr. Aris had warned her about autonomic dysreflexia.
In someone with Jonah's injury, a problem below the level he could feel could send his nervous system into crisis.
“Bedroom. Now.”
“I have things to handle.”
“You can handle them while not having a brain hemorrhage.”
Jonah glared at her.
Then another spasm hit.
He stopped arguing.
Twenty minutes later, the crisis began easing.
Stella adjusted his position, checked for pressure points and monitored him until his numbers came down.
Frankie stood near the bedroom door looking guilty.
Jonah noticed.
“Stop staring.”
“You almost passed out.”
“I didn't.”
“That's your defense?”
“It happened to me.”
Stella looked between them.
“Apparently emotional repression is contagious in this house.”
Neither man answered.
She finished checking Jonah and pulled the blanket over his legs.
“Now tell me about the harbor ledgers.”
Jonah's expression closed.
“No.”
Stella laughed.
“You just had two guns in your foyer.”
“Three.”
“Wonderful. Much better.”
“Stella—”
“I work here. Apparently that now includes armed visitors threatening to search the house. I deserve context.”
“You deserve your paycheck.”
“Then double it.”
Frankie's mouth twitched.
Jonah stared at her.
“You negotiate after nearly getting shot?”
“I have student loans.”
That almost got him.
Almost.
Then Jonah's eyes hardened again.
“The ledgers contain records Victor wants.”
“What kind?”
“That is not your concern.”
“Then neither is whether your pressure hits two hundred.”
He looked offended.
“Are you blackmailing me with healthcare?”
“I'm setting boundaries.”
Frankie turned away to hide a smile.
Jonah noticed.
“Get out.”
Frankie left.
Stella folded her arms.
Jonah waited until the door closed.
Then he said, “There are no harbor ledgers.”
Stella blinked.
“What?”
“They don't exist.”
She stared at him.
“You just threatened three armed men with imaginary paperwork?”
“Yes.”
“That is either brilliant or clinically stupid.”
“Possibly both.”
“Then why did Victor believe you?”
Jonah's eyes moved toward the rain-streaked window.
“Because six weeks ago, I told three people that I had compiled records documenting every payment, shipment and political favor connected to the harbor.”
Stella's irritation faded.
“A trap.”
“Yes.”
“For Victor?”
“For whoever arranged the shooting.”
The room went still.
Stella looked toward Jonah's legs beneath the blanket.
“You thought Victor ordered the sniper.”
“I did.”
“You don't anymore?”
“Victor came personally.”
“So?”
“If he had ordered the shooting, he would already know what was taken from my office that night.”
“What was taken?”
“Nothing.”
Stella frowned.
Jonah continued.
“My desk was searched after I was shot. Whoever did it believed I kept records somewhere.”
“The fake ledgers.”
“I invented them afterward.”
“To see who came looking.”
“Yes.”
Stella slowly sat in the chair beside the bed.
“And only three people knew?”
Jonah nodded.
“Frankie.”
She wasn't surprised.
“My dock manager, Gabriel Soto.”
She had heard the name.
“And my cousin Mateo.”
“Who is Mateo?”
A faint shadow crossed Jonah's face.
“The closest thing I have to a brother.”
That was not reassuring.
Stella looked toward the door Frankie had just closed.
“So one of three people told Victor.”
“Yes.”
“And you deliberately spread fake information while living in a house full of employees?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever make decisions that don't place everyone around you in mortal danger?”
“Rarely.”
She stared at him.
For the first time, he looked almost ashamed.
Not enough.
But almost.
“Was today expected?”
“No.”
That answer came too quickly.
Stella leaned forward.
“You expected somebody to react.”
“I expected information.”
“You got guns.”
“I noticed.”
“And you didn't warn me.”
Jonah looked away.
That angered her more than Victor had.
“I am not one of your pieces on a chessboard.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
She stood.
“I came here because I need a paycheck. I stayed because underneath all the threats and bad manners, I thought there might actually be a decent person trapped in this miserable house.”
Jonah's eyes lifted.
“That was your mistake.”
“Maybe.”
She reached for her medication tray.
His expression changed.
“You're leaving?”
“For tonight.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Stella stopped.
There was something raw underneath the question.
She hated that she noticed.
“I'll be back at six.”
His shoulders loosened.
Barely.
Then Stella picked up the evening medication bottle.
Something rattled strangely.
She frowned.
“What?”
Jonah asked.
Stella opened it.
She poured two tablets into her palm.
Then another.
Her stomach tightened.
They were not the same.
Same color.
Same approximate size.
Different markings.
“Who filled this bottle?”
Jonah watched her.
“Dr. Aris's pharmacy.”
“These aren't all the same medication.”
Silence.
Stella checked the label again.
Baclofen.
Ten milligrams.
She turned one tablet over.
Then the second.
Different imprint.
Her heart began beating faster.
She looked at Jonah's shaking hands.
His unexplained exhaustion.
The worsening weakness.
Six nurses fired in three weeks.
Someone inside the Navarro estate had not merely told Victor about imaginary ledgers.
May you like
Someone had been tampering with Jonah's medication.
And whoever it was had access to his bedroom.
