Alexander grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, his movements sharp and precise.

I followed him out of the boardroom, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The elevator ride down to the lobby felt like it took hours, the silence between us heavy and cold.

“She wouldn’t,” I said, looking at the brass floor indicator as the numbers ticked down. “Not with the police so close.”

“She is desperate, Emma,” Alexander said. “She knows she lost the board.”

The elevator doors slid open into the marble lobby, and we broke into a fast walk toward the glass revolving doors.

A black SUV was idling at the curb, the wipers brushing away a light, cold drizzle.

The driver, Frank, had the door open before we reached the sidewalk.

“The townhouse, Frank,” Alexander said as we climbed into the leather back seat. “Use the sirens if you have to.”

Frank nodded, pulling into the midtown traffic with a hard acceleration that pressed me back into the seat.

I stared out the window at the gray stone buildings of Manhattan rushing past in a blur.