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by Vivian Cross
Vivienne Crane has spent two years keeping her hands clean on paper and her conscience buried under columns that always balance. As Blackridge’s most precise money-launderer, she does not make mistakes — except for the one sealed inside a manila folder that Chicago underboss Dante Reyes slides across the conference table at eleven fifty-three on a January night, her own notary stamp staring back at her like an indictment.
Then the lights drop to amber, the elevator panel goes dark, and the muffled concussion of boots in the stairwell below makes the choice for both of them: the corrupt city officials who want them neutralized before dawn are already moving up through the building. Vivienne and Dante have six hours, a locked forty-third floor, and nothing between them but two years of mutual contempt and a shared secret that could destroy them both.
Forced cooperation strips the performance away faster than any boardroom ever could. Dante knows what she did. She is beginning to understand why he never used it. And in the long amber dark, with armed men one floor below and a federal task force arriving at dawn, the line between enemy and ally is becoming dangerously difficult to find.
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Inspired by Blackridge
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