Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room
Vance grabbed Harper roughly by the arm and pulled her through the heavy security doors into the intake area. “Preston told me you might slip away during the fire. Good thing you ran to the right people, princess.”
Harper let herself stumble, playing the role of the hysterical victim perfectly. “He’s insane, Marcus. He killed five of your men at the house. He’s coming here for Luca.”
“Let him come,” Vance laughed, escorting her down the concrete hallway toward his private office. “This building is a fortress. We’ve got twenty armed contractors and enough surveillance to spot a rat in the alley.”
They entered the office. Vance pushed her into a steel chair across from his desk and picked up a desk phone. “Let me call your father. He’ll be thrilled to know we have you back under control.”
“Don’t call him yet,” Harper said, her voice completely calm.
Vance paused, the receiver halfway to his ear. “Excuse me?”
Harper sat up straight. She wiped the fake tears from her face, leaning forward on the desk. “I said, don't call him yet. You haven't checked my coat.”
Vance frowned, reaching for the holster on his hip. “What the hell are you—”
Harper pulled the suppressed 9mm pistol from her deep jacket pocket and fired twice through the desk.
The low thwip-thwip of the suppressed shots was drowned out by the hum of the HVAC unit. The heavy mahogany desk splintered as both rounds slammed into Vance’s kneecaps. He collapsed to the floor with a strangled howl, clutching his shattered legs.
Harper stood up, walked around the desk, and pressed the cold muzzle against Vance’s forehead.
“Don’t make a sound,” she whispered, her eyes cold as winter ice. “Or the next one goes through your teeth.”
Behind her, the office door clicked open. Enzo and Matteo slipped into the room like shadows, tactical gear dripping with rain, their weapons sweeping the corners.
“Clear,” Matteo whispered, locking the office door from the inside.
Enzo looked down at Vance, then looked at Harper with a faint smirk. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“Keys to the lower holding cells are on the wall,” Harper said, not taking her eyes off Vance. “Cell 104 is where they keep high-value targets.”
Enzo grabbed the electronic keycard from the wall rack. He leaned down over Vance, his hand closing around the guard’s throat. “Where is the transport ledger for the shipping docks?”
Vance choked, blood bubbling on his lips. “Go to hell, DeLuca.”
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Enzo didn't blink. He reached down, grabbed Vance’s broken knee, and squeezed.
Vance screamed into the floorboards. “In the safe! In the safe behind the painting! The code is 44-91-02! Just don't let her shoot me!”
