Chapter 7 - VANESSA’S OFFER
Dominic grabbed my arm.
“You do not go out there.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“That doesn’t make me wrong.”
Vanessa’s voice echoed from behind the burned storage units.
“Avery! I’m getting bored.”
Marco checked Dominic’s wound.
“Through-and-through. You got lucky.”
Dominic looked at me.
“My people will find Linda.”
“And if they don’t?”
Silence.
Exactly.
I stepped toward the door.
Dominic blocked me.
“Move.”
“No.”
“I can handle Vanessa.”
“This isn’t about Vanessa.”
“It is for me.”
He stared at me.
I lowered my voice.
“She spent seven weeks treating me like dirt because she thought I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“This isn’t a party. She has armed men.”
“And I have you.”
He raised an eyebrow.
I almost smiled.
“Congratulations. You finally became useful.”
Marco actually laughed.
Dominic did not.
But something changed in his face.
We made a plan.
A terrible plan.
Which, at that point, seemed to be the only kind available.
I walked outside holding the lockbox.
Hands visible.
Vanessa stood beside an SUV about thirty yards away.
Two men with guns flanked her.
She had changed out of her silver dress.
Black coat.
Hair tied back.
No champagne.
No fake smile.
This Vanessa looked much more honest.
“Stop there.”
I stopped.
“Where’s my mother?”
“Safe.”
“I want proof.”
She held up a phone.
Video.
Mom sat in a chair.
Two armed men behind her.
My stomach twisted.
Vanessa smiled.
“Now give me the box.”
“No.”
Her smile faded.
“That wasn’t a negotiation.”
“Then shoot me.”
One of the men lifted his weapon.
Vanessa stopped him.
“Not yet.”
I held up the recorder.
“My father named your dad.”
Her face changed.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I heard his voice.”
“Your father was a liar.”
That hit something deep.
I took one step forward.
“Say that again.”
Vanessa smiled.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“The angry little girl.”
She walked closer.
“You’ve been pretending this is about dignity. It isn’t. You hate people like me because we have everything you think was stolen from you.”
“I hated you because you made me kneel on a floor.”
“And you did it.”
She laughed softly.
“That’s the funny part, Avery. Nobody forced you.”
My fingers tightened around the box.
“You needed money, so you swallowed your pride. That’s life.”
“No. That’s what people like you tell yourselves so you can sleep.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Give me the box.”
“Give me my mother.”
She nodded toward one of the men.
He reached for his radio.
That was our signal.
The lights went out.
Marco had cut the power.
Darkness swallowed the lot.
I dropped.
Gunshots erupted.
Dominic’s men moved from both sides.
Vanessa screamed.
I crawled behind a concrete divider as bullets hit metal.
One of her guards rushed me.
I kicked his knee sideways.
He collapsed.
I grabbed his wrist, turned, drove him face-first into the pavement, and kicked the gun away.
Eight years.
Eight years since I had fought anyone seriously.
My body still knew.
Another man came from behind.
I ducked his punch.
Elbow.
Ribs.
Palm strike.
He staggered.
I swept his leg.
Done.
Then someone grabbed my hair.
Vanessa.
“You ruined everything!”
She slammed me against the SUV.
I turned.
She swung wildly.
I blocked.
She swung again.
I caught her wrist.
Again.
Just like the mansion.
Except this time she had a knife in her other hand.
The blade flashed toward my stomach.
I stepped inside the strike, trapped her elbow, and drove her against the vehicle.
The knife fell.
She screamed.
I could have broken her arm.
Part of me wanted to.
I didn’t.
I shoved her down.
“Where is my mother?”
Vanessa spat blood.
“Go to hell.”
I grabbed her coat.
“Where?”
She smiled.
Then a gunshot cracked behind me.
I turned.
Marco staggered.
Blood spread across his chest.
Dominic caught him.
The shooter disappeared into the darkness.
Marco collapsed.
Dominic pressed both hands against the wound.
“Marco!”
Marco looked at me.
His lips moved.
I leaned closer.
“Warehouse…”
“What warehouse?”
“Your father…”
Blood filled the corner of his mouth.
“He never died there.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Marco struggled for air.
“Daniel…”
May you like
He grabbed my wrist.
“Was alive after the accident.”
