Chapter 3 - NATHAN DAWSONThe last time Dominic had seen Nathan Dawson, they argued.
That memory had lived inside him for eleven years.
Nathan entered Dominic’s office without appointment.
He looked older than forty-nine.
Tired.
Alert.
Nathan had always noticed rooms before people.
Doors.
Windows.
Hands.
That had never changed after military service.
Dominic remembered standing.
“You disappear six months, then walk in like nothing happened?”
Nathan closed door.
“I need something.”
Dominic laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Nathan did not react.
“I need your private number.”
“You have it.”
“I need to know it still works.”
Dominic narrowed eyes.
“It works.”
“Same routing?”
“Yes.”
“Who knows it?”
Dominic counted.
“Five.”
“Still?”
“Still.”
Nathan nodded.
That should have told Dominic something.
Instead he was angry.
Nathan had refused jobs.
Ignored calls.
Moved several times.
Dominic interpreted distance as judgment.
“You afraid being seen with me now?”
Nathan looked at him.
“This isn’t about you.”
“It always becomes about me when you want something.”
Nathan’s expression hardened.
“You’re still the same arrogant bastard I dragged through half a war.”
Dominic almost smiled.
Almost.
“What trouble are you in?”
Nathan paused.
Then:
“None.”
Lie.
Dominic knew.
But pride made him let it pass.
Nathan said:
“If my daughter ever calls this number, you answer.”
Dominic stared.
“Riley?”
Nathan's face softened.
“You remember.”
“I remember everything.”
“If she calls, don’t ask questions first.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Promise.”
Dominic grew irritated.
“You don’t get to disappear and come in here demanding—”
Nathan struck table with palm.
“PROMISE ME.”
Silence.
Dominic stared at man who had once taken a beating meant for him.
Then:
“I promise.”
Nathan exhaled.
“Good.”
Dominic asked:
“Is she in danger?”
“Not if I do this right.”
“Do what?”
Nathan looked at him with an expression Dominic only understood years later.
Farewell.
“I have to go.”
Dominic blocked path.
“No.”
“You came here scared.”
“Nathan Dawson does not scare easy.”
“Tell me.”
Nathan smiled sadly.
“That’s always been your problem.”
“What?”
“You think if you know where bullet is coming from, you have to stand in front of it.”
Dominic replied:
“For you?”
“Yes.”
Nathan shook head.
“Exactly.”
Then he walked out.
Dominic sent someone to follow.
Nathan spotted him within twenty minutes and called Dominic furious.
“Call him off.”
“Tell me what’s happening.”
“No.”
“Nathan.”
“Keep your promise.”
That was last conversation.
Months passed.
Nathan vanished.
Dominic searched.
Nothing.
A false passport trail toward Canada.
A car found abandoned.
No body.
Dominic assumed Nathan had chosen to disappear with Riley.
He was hurt.
Then angry.
Eventually he stopped searching.
Now Riley sat ten feet away.
Nathan had died not long after.
Dominic had spent a decade resenting a dead man.
He excused himself to restroom.
Closed door.
For several seconds he stood alone.
Then placed both hands against marble sink.
His reflection looked older than sixty.
“Nathan.”
The name cracked.
Dominic had buried brother.
Wife.
Friends.
Men who died because of choices he made.
But Nathan was different.
Nathan belonged to life before Dominic Vance became someone people feared.
Before money.
Before guards.
Before blood debts.
When survival depended on another exhausted soldier refusing to leave you behind.
Dominic shut eyes.
The memories came.
Nathan laughing in rain.
Nathan splitting last ration.
Nathan shouting:
“MOVE!”
Nathan’s body covering Dominic as concrete exploded.
And captivity.
Always captivity.
Dominic opened eyes.
A knock.
Grant.
“Sir?”
Dominic unlocked.
Grant entered.
“I found preliminary records.”
Dominic braced.
“Nathan Dawson officially died nine years, eleven months ago.”
“How?”
“Vehicle collision outside Albany.”
“Alone?”
“Apparently.”
“Apparently?”
“Body was identified by dental records.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Who handled identification?”
“Private funeral service.”
“No family?”
“Riley was seven.”
“Guardian was Marissa Cole.”
“Who signed?”
Grant checked phone.
“A man named Vincent Kade assisted.”
Dominic froze.
Grant noticed.
“Problem?”
Vincent Kade had worked beside Dominic for twenty years.
Not one of five who knew private number.
But close.
Trusted.
The man who managed difficult problems when Grant was unavailable.
The man who had told Dominic years ago:
Nathan doesn’t want to be found. Let him go.
Dominic whispered:
“Get Vincent.”
Grant's face changed.
“Here?”
“Not yet.”
“Watch him.”
“He does not know Riley is here.”
“Understood.”
Dominic returned to private room.
Riley looked up.
“You okay?”
The question surprised him.
He almost said yes.
Then remembered Nathan.
“No.”
Riley nodded as though she respected answer more.
Dominic sat.
“Your father came to see me before he died.”
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
“He made me promise something.”
“What?”
“That if you ever called, I answered.”
Riley stared.
“He never told me he saw you.”
“He was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“I don't know yet.”
Riley's face turned hard.
“My whole life is people telling me they don't know.”
Dominic accepted.
“Then we find out.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
He could have said because Nathan was friend.
Because debt.
Because honor.
Instead Dominic told truth.
“Because your father once stood between me and men who were trying to beat information out of us.”
Riley became still.
Dominic continued:
“He took what was meant for me.”
“He almost died.”
“And when we escaped…”
His throat tightened.
“…I carried him because he couldn't walk.”
Riley whispered:
“He never told me that.”
Dominic smiled sadly.
“He wouldn’t.”
Then:
“So when I tell you I owe Nathan Dawson my life…”
Dominic looked directly at her.
“I am not speaking metaphorically.”
For first time, Riley’s suspicion cracked.
Not gone.
But cracked.
And Dominic knew one thing with certainty.
May you like
Whoever had killed Nathan had made the mistake of leaving his daughter alive.
Now she had called.
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