Chapter 10 - THE HEIST AT LAURA
The service door of Laura bistro was unlocked.
We stepped into the dark, familiar kitchen.
The scent of melted butter and scorched sugar still hung faintly in the air.
“David!” I called out in a low, cautious whisper.
A light flickered on in the manager’s office down the hall.
David Kesler appeared in the doorway, looking disheveled, holding a baseball bat with trembling hands.
“Megan?!” David gasped, lowering the bat in shock.
“What are you doing here?”
Roman stepped out of the shadows behind me.
David froze, color draining from his face once again.
“Mr. Roman...” David stammered.
“Please, I’ve already packed my things. I didn't mean to—”
“We’re not here to fire you again, David,” I interrupted, stepping forward.
“We need the physical security logs from the night Roman was stabbed in the alley.”
David swallowed hard.
“Why?”
“Because Victor Vance paid you to hide them,” Roman said coldly, pressing the barrel of his pistol against the doorframe.
“And Victor is planning to kill us all to cover his tracks.”
David looked at Roman, then at me.
The arrogant, tyrannical manager was gone, replaced by a terrified man who realized he was playing in a league far beyond his depth.
“The safe is behind the painting in my office,” David whispered, turning around and rushing inside.
He spun the dial twice, pulled open the small iron door, and handed over a thick manila folder filled with printed security camera stills and financial wire receipts.
“Take it,” David pleaded.
“Just please... leave me out of this.”
Before Roman could take the folder, the front windows of the bistro shattered inward.
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Gunfire erupted!
Bullets chewed through the kitchen drywall, sending white plaster raining down on our heads.
