Chapter 5 - The Warehouse Trap
The warehouse smelled like rust, river water, and diesel.
Roman’s men surrounded the property.
But Victor demanded I enter alone.
Roman stood beside the vehicle.
“No.”
“We already discussed this.”
“I changed my mind.”
“You don’t get to.”
“I’m Roman DeLuca. I get to do that frequently.”
“Not with me.”
He caught my hand.
“Claire.”
His voice had changed.
No authority.
No command.
Just fear.
“If something happens to you—”
“Then make sure it doesn’t.”
Silence.
I touched his face.
It surprised both of us.
“You trusted me in the alley.”
“That was different.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t care whether I lived.”
I froze.
Roman continued.
“Now I do.”
I lowered my hand.
“Then get my sister back.”
I entered.
My cane tapped concrete.
Victor’s voice echoed.
“Remarkable.”
“Where’s Lena?”
“Claire!”
My sister.
Alive.
I moved toward her.
“Stop,” Victor ordered.
I stopped.
“Give me the drive.”
“I don’t have it.”
His footsteps approached.
“You disappoint me.”
“You disappoint me too, but apparently we’re still having this conversation.”
He laughed.
“You sound like your father.”
“You killed him.”
“Your father killed himself by becoming brave at the wrong moment.”
I heard Roman’s words in my head.
Keep him talking.
“Why watch me?”
“Because Daniel never trusted banks. I knew he left the ledger with someone.”
“And you waited seven years?”
“I searched seven years.”
Victor moved closer.
“Then Roman accidentally fell into your arms.”
He laughed.
“Almost poetic.”
I listened.
Victor was directly ahead.
Lena somewhere behind him.
Another man to my right.
Possibly two more near the entrance.
Victor said, “Roman cares about you.”
“That sounds like his problem.”
“It makes you valuable.”
“No.”
A familiar voice came from the darkness.
“It makes you dead.”
Roman.
Everything exploded into movement.
Victor grabbed me.
I drove my cane backward into his knee.
He shouted.
I dropped.
Roman tackled him.
Marco’s men rushed inside.
Lena screamed my name.
I crawled toward her voice.
“Claire!”
“I’m here!”
My hands found her.
She was tied to a chair.
I pulled at the rope.
Behind us, Victor shouted:
“You think you won, Roman?”
A gunshot cracked.
Then silence.
I froze.
“Roman?”
Nothing.
“Roman!”
Footsteps approached.
I held Lena.
Then Roman’s hand touched my shoulder.
“I’m here.”
I grabbed his coat.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“Only slightly.”
I hit his chest.
He groaned.
“Okay. Definitely hurt.”
“You idiot.”
He laughed.
Behind him, Marco said, “Victor’s alive. Police can have him.”
Roman replied, “Good.”
That surprised me.
“You’re letting him live?”
Roman looked toward me.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because someone once reminded me I could choose what kind of man I wanted to be.”
I knew he meant me.
May you like
And for once, I had no clever response.
---
