Chapter 8 - THE TRAP IS SET
Marcus met me at our secure downtown safehouse at 2:00 AM.
He dropped a heavy manila envelope onto the kitchen island.
“He’s losing his mind, Claire,” Marcus said, pouring himself a glass of water.
“His enforcers are deserting him by the dozen.”
“He’s desperate,” I replied, examining the surveillance photos inside the envelope.
“Desperate men do stupid things.”
“Like trying to ambush you,” Marcus added grimly.
“My scouts spotted two of his loyalists casing this building an hour ago.”
“Good,” I said calmly.
“Let them watch.”
“What are you planning, Claire?” Marcus asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m not hiding anymore, Marcus.”
“I’m going to meet him.”
Marcus slammed his glass down.
“Are you out of your mind?! He wants to kill you!”
“He wants answers,” I corrected him, standing up and slipping my coat on.
“And I’m going to give them to him.”
“On my terms.”
Before Marcus could argue further, my burner phone chimed on the table.
An incoming call from an unknown ID.
I slid my thumb across the screen and pressed speaker.
“Claire,” Vincent’s voice rasped through the speaker.
Dark.
Broken.
Filled with venom.
“Hello, Vincent,” I answered evenly.
“You think you won, don't you?” he whispered.
“You think taking my company destroys me?”
“You destroyed yourself long before I walked out that door, Vincent,” I said.
“Meet me,” he demanded.
“Tonight. At the old boathouse by Lake Michigan where we used to talk before all the lies.”
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“If you don't come, I’ll burn down every memory we ever shared.”
“I’ll be there,” I said, and hung up before he could reply.
