Nora stood in the middle of the bedroom Bernie stashed her in when they arrived at his condo in Chicago. Something was wrong. Everything felt wrong.

She wiped her eyes again. Tears wouldn’t stop coming. Her throat was still hoarse from all the screaming she did in the SUV after Bernie climbed in beside her and his men began tearing into Greg.

The assholes hadn’t even made it a fair fight. The shot to his foot hadn’t been enough, they’d let one loose in his arm as well before they pounded on him with their fists and feet.

Nora had tried to get out, to get to him, but Bernie had held her back. His tone changed, his orders were harsh and laced with the promise of pain if she didn’t do what he said.

When they’d driven away, she clung to the window, praying to see Greg get up. But he laid there, blood pooling around his foot, covering his arm. He laid there on the ground, crumpled and unconscious. Even if he was awake, they’d shot out his tires. That had to mean he was still alive, though, right?

Bernie wouldn’t answer any of her questions on the way back to Chicago. He told her to remain quiet. She’d sunk into the leather seat and bit her lip, saying silent prayers that Greg would be okay.

And that he would come find her.

She’d been so fucking stupid.

The door to the bedroom opened and a young woman dressed in a casual maid’s uniform walked in carrying a tray.

“Breakfast,” she said with a smile and placed the silver tray down on the small table near the bed. “Scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. I wasn’t sure if you liked tea or coffee, so I brought both.” She waved at the two pots.

“Is Bernie still here?” Nora asked, ignoring the food. It smelled beyond tasty, but she wasn’t interested. She hungered for information, not scrambled eggs.

“No. He left for a meeting half an hour ago. He said to make sure you ate and showered. He’ll be expecting to see you at lunch.” The smile fell from her lips with the instructions.

“I think I might go for a walk before he comes back, do you know when he’ll be back?” Nora asked, edging her way toward the table.

“No, and he said you weren’t to leave the room.”

“The room or the condo?” Nora asked, eyeing the silverware on the tray. If she could get a hold of the knife, she might be able to use this maid as a way to get out.

“The room, ma’am. He said I’m to keep the door locked. I’m sorry, for whatever has happened,” she quickly added.

“Thank you for breakfast, it smells wonderful.” Nora flipped the napkin over to find the silverware set. A fork and spoon. Useless. She pushed a smile to her lips and regarded the maid.

“There’s a phone on the nightstand, if you need something just pick up the receiver and the phone will ring in the kitchen,” she said and left the room. Nora listened for the soft click of the lock.

Bernie had her locked away. Why?

But he’d given her a phone. She could call for help. She’d call The Bar and check on Blake, tell him what happened to Greg. Surely, he’d go find him and get him help.

Nora ran to the phone, freezing when she saw it. No dial pad. It was a one-way call to the servants, nothing more.

Well, fuck.

Nora sank down on the bed, rubbing her eyes again. She needed to think, figure a way out of this condo and back to Greg.

If Greg was still alive.