Chapter 4 - Landing in the Heat
The humidity of Miami International Airport hit Clare like a physical wall the moment she stepped out of the air-conditioned terminal tunnel into the Jetway.
She held Maya’s small, sticky hand in one grip and hoisted her heavy canvas backpack over her other shoulder. Maya rubbed her sleepy eyes with the back of her free hand, clutching her matted gray rabbit tightly against her chest.
“Mommy, are we at Grandma’s?” Maya mumbled, her voice thick with morning sleep.
“Not quite, sweetie,” Clare whispered, kissing the top of her daughter’s dark curls. “We’re at a sunny place. Just us.”
They pushed through the sliding glass doors into the bustling arrivals hall, dodging tourists in colorful Hawaiian shirts and business travelers clutching iced coffees. Clare’s cousin, Elena, was supposed to meet them near Baggage Claim B with a sputtering 2008 Toyota Corolla that had a broken air conditioner and a bumper held together by duct tape.
Clare scanned the crowd, looking for Elena’s familiar blonde ponytail.
Instead, a tall man in a sharp black suit and mirrored sunglasses stepped smoothly out from behind a concrete pillar, directly into her path.
He didn't smile. Men in black suits didn't smile at airports.
“Mrs. Jensen?” the man asked, his voice clipped and professional through an earpiece wire.
Clare instinctively pulled Maya a step behind her, her heart dropping into her stomach. Richard found us. The thought flashed through her mind with terrifying clarity. He tracked our flight.
“Who are you?” Clare demanded, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to sound brave.
The man reached inside his suit jacket, and Clare braced herself for the worst—stepping entirely in front of Maya, ready to take whatever was coming.
Instead, the man pulled out a pristine white leather folder and a black metal card that caught the fluorescent airport lights.
“Mr. Salvatore sends his regards,” the enforcer said smoothly. “My name is Vince. My car is waiting on the private tarmac ramp. If you’ll follow me, ma’am.”
Clare stared at the card. It was the exact same metal token Dante had slipped into her pocket on the plane.
“I told him I didn’t need a ride,” Clare said, her voice tight with suspicion. “My cousin is meeting me here.”
“Your cousin Elena’s car broke down on the Dolphin Expressway twenty minutes ago,” Vince replied without missing a beat, tapping his earpiece. “She’s currently waiting for a tow truck near Exit 14. Mr. Salvatore anticipated minor logistical complications.”
Clare let out a frustrated breath. Of course Elena’s car broke down. That was the running theme of her entire family’s existence.
“I can’t just go with you,” Clare argued, looking around the crowded terminal. “I have a three-year-old child. I have to go to Coral Gables—”
“Mr. Salvatore has already secured a private, fully furnished townhome in Coral Gables for you and your daughter,” Vince interrupted politely, gesturing toward a pair of heavy glass exit doors marked Authorized Personnel Only. “It’s completely secure. The perimeter is monitored twenty-four hours a day. No one—absolutely no one—will be able to find you there without express authorization.”
The word secure hung in the air like a lifeline.
Clare thought of Richard. She thought of the restraining order he had already violated twice. She thought of the cold, terrified nights spent listening for footsteps on the porch, wondering if he would manage to track down her bank statements or her phone GPS.
A secure perimeter. No one could find her.
May you like
She looked down at Maya, who was blinking sleepily, trusting her mother implicitly.
“Lead the way,” Clare whispered.
