Chapter 7 – THE HANDOFF

The abandoned warehouse on 5th Street smelled of motor oil and rotting wood.

Gabriel parked the SUV in the shadows. A moment later, a sleek black Mercedes pulled in. Isabella stepped out, trembling in her gray sweatshirt, looking terrified.

I walked toward her, holding the heavy leather ledger. Gabriel followed close behind, his left arm wrapped in a hastily applied bandage that was already soaking through with bright red blood. I had sliced a shallow but bleeding gash across his forearm.

Isabella stared at his arm, her eyes wide.

“Take it,” I said, shoving the ledger into her hands. “Wipe some of the blood on your sweatshirt. Smear it on the cover.”

She hesitated, then reached out, pressing her fingers against Gabriel’s soaked bandage. She wiped the blood across her chest and onto the leather binding. She looked like she had just survived a brutal fight.

“You have to be convincing,” Gabriel said, his voice hard. “When you get to the pier, Elias will have men flanking him. Walk straight to him. Show him the book. The moment he opens it to check the signature, he’ll be distracted.”

“And then?” Isabella whispered.

“Then, my men kill the lights on the pier,” Gabriel said. “You grab the boy and drop to the ground. Do not run. Just drop. We will handle the rest.”

Answer One: Isabella’s role was the Trojan Horse to create a three-second window of distraction.

Open Two: What if Elias didn’t care about the ledger anymore? What if he just wanted Gabriel dead?

Isabella clutched the book to her chest. She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes.

“Why are you trusting me with this, Claire? I tried to ruin your life.”

“You tried to survive,” I corrected gently. “Now, go save that little boy.”

She nodded, got back into her Mercedes, and sped off toward the docks.

Gabriel and I got back into the SUV. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a tactical vest, slipping it over his dress shirt. He handed me a smaller bulletproof vest.

“Put this on.”

“I’m staying in the car,” I said, my hands shaking as I strapped it over my silk blouse.

“Good.” He loaded a matte-black handgun and racked the slide. “When the lights go out, my men push in. If things go wrong, Claire… if I don’t come back to this car in ten minutes… drive. Don’t look back.”

“You’re coming back,” I said fiercely, grabbing his jaw and pulling him into a hard kiss. It tasted of salt and desperation. “You bring our son home.”

He stared at me, his eyes softening at the word our.

Then he slipped out of the vehicle and vanished into the fog rolling off Lake Michigan.

I sat in the dark, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Through the windshield, about two hundred yards away, I could see the floodlights of Pier 44. A massive cargo freighter was moored at the dock. Several black SUVs were parked in a semicircle, armed men standing near the bumpers.

In the center of the lights stood Elias Romano.

He was a tall, heavily built man in a camel-hair coat. And standing right beside him, gripping Elias’s leg, was a tiny boy in a blue jacket.

My breath hitched. He was so small.

A moment later, Isabella’s Mercedes pulled up to the barricade. She stepped out. Even from this distance, I could see her holding up the bloody ledger.

Elias’s men parted. Isabella walked toward her father.

I rolled down my window, straining to hear over the low hum of the freighter’s engine.

Elias looked at the book, then at the blood on his daughter’s clothes. He laughed—a cruel, booming sound that carried over the water.

He reached out and snatched the ledger from her hands.

He opened it.

Now, I prayed. Do it now.

Suddenly, every floodlight on Pier 44 shattered.

POP! POP! POP!

The dock plunged into pitch blackness.

Gunfire erupted. Muzzle flashes lit up the dark like violent lightning. Men shouted. Tires squealed.

“Gabriel!” I screamed, even though he couldn’t hear me.

I watched the chaos, gripping the steering wheel so hard my fingernails bit into my palms.

Then, through the strobing flashes of gunfire, I saw a terrifying silhouette.

Elias Romano hadn’t dropped the book. He hadn’t been distracted enough.

In the brief flash of a gunshot, I saw Elias grab Leo by the collar of his jacket, dragging the screaming child backward toward the gangway of the freighter.

Isabella was on the ground, but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.

If Elias got that boy onto the ship, it was over.

Answer One: The plan failed. Elias was too paranoid to drop his guard.

Reversal: I couldn’t sit in the car.

I threw the SUV into drive, slammed my foot on the gas, and barreled straight toward the docks.

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