Chapter 5

A Seat at the Same Table

The GONAS conference room overlooked the San Diego harbor, but Grant Gonas wasn't paying attention to the view.

His attention was fixed on the man seated across the polished table.

Mr. Kenji Nakamura.

President of one of Japan's largest shipping companies.

"We've reviewed your proposal, Mr. Gonas," Kenji said, folding his hands neatly. "The numbers are impressive."

Grant nodded once.

"They're accurate."

"But there's another offer."

Grant wasn't surprised.

"There always is."

The room fell silent.

The directors exchanged nervous glances while Grant remained perfectly composed.

"If you choose GONAS," he continued, "your cargo reaches every major port in North America twenty-four hours faster than our competitors. We don't promise. We deliver."

Kenji smiled.

"I like confident people."

"I prefer competent ones."

A few executives shifted uncomfortably.

Grant had a habit of saying exactly what he meant.

After another hour of negotiations, both parties stood.

Kenji extended his hand.

"I believe we have a deal."

Grant shook it firmly.

"Welcome to GONAS."

As the investors left the room, Damien entered through a private door.

"The contract?"

"Signed."

Damien allowed himself a small smile.

"I knew you'd pull it off."

Grant loosened his tie.

"Now tell me why you sounded worried on the phone."

Damien placed a tablet on the table.

"We found out why Romano men have been circling the neighborhood."

Grant glanced at the screen.

Photos of Meera.

Photos of the taco stand.

Photos taken from across the street.

His expression darkened.

"They've been watching her for three days."

"Why?"

"We don't know."

Grant's jaw tightened.

"Find out."

"We're trying."

"No."

Grant looked him dead in the eye.

"I didn't say try."

---

Across town, Meera was laughing with a group of regular customers.

"You've spoiled us," one woman complained playfully.

"Now no other tacos taste right."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

As she packed their order, a little boy tugged at her apron.

"Miss Meera?"

"Yes?"

He held up a folded piece of paper.

"A man told me to give you this."

She frowned.

"Which man?"

The boy pointed across the road.

No one was there.

Meera unfolded the note.

Stay away from the man in the black SUV.

Her smile disappeared.

There was no signature.

Only those nine words.

A chill ran down her spine.

"Everything okay?" Rosa asked.

Meera quickly folded the paper.

"Yeah..."

But it wasn't.

Not even close.

---

That evening, Grant parked a short distance away from the taco stand instead of directly in front of it.

He didn't want to draw attention.

As he stepped out of the SUV, he noticed Meera locking up for the day.

"You're leaving early," he said.

She looked over her shoulder.

"You again."

"I'll take that as a welcome."

"It wasn't."

Despite herself, Meera smiled.

It vanished almost immediately.

Grant noticed.

"So you can smile."

"I smile."

"Not at me."

"You haven't earned it."

Grant couldn't argue with that.

As they walked side by side toward the sidewalk, neither noticed the man standing across the street with a camera.

Click.

Another photo.

Click.

The stranger slipped his phone into his pocket and disappeared into the growing crowd.

---

Later that night...

The photo landed on Victor Romano's desk.

Victor studied it carefully.

Grant Gonas.

Standing beside a street-food vendor.

Talking.

Smiling.

Interested.

Victor leaned back in his chair.

"So..."

A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face.

"The Frozen Beast finally has something to lose."

He picked up his phone.

"Bring me everything you can find on Meera Andrews."

The order was simple.

But the consequences would be anything but.

For the first time, Meera's name had entered the world of the mafia.

And once a name entered that world...

It was almost impossible to erase.