Chapter 8 - The Warehouse Beneath the Bridge
Roman refused to let Claire come to the warehouse. Claire waited until he left, then climbed into Mateo’s car with Lily and Susan.
“This is a terrible plan,” Susan said from the passenger seat.
“You have had several terrible plans.”
“Most of mine involved saving people from your family.”
“Then you should recognize the pattern.”
They reached the warehouse beneath the Fort Pitt Bridge as dawn turned the sky pink. Police sirens echoed in the distance. The building’s rusted doors stood open, and Roman’s men moved through the shadows.
Roman found Claire near the loading dock. His face showed anger, relief, and something more dangerous than both.
“You disobeyed me.”
“You didn’t ask me to stay. You ordered me.”
“I am trying to keep you alive.”
“Then try listening.”
His gaze moved to Lily. “You brought her?”
Lily lifted her chin. “I brought myself.”
Roman looked as if he wanted to argue, but Susan stepped between them. “The girl is not the problem. The family is.”
Inside, the warehouse smelled of oil, wet concrete, and old wood. Shelves had been emptied. A steel safe stood open near the office. On the floor lay a broken camera and several pages from a ledger.
Claire picked up a page. The names were written in columns, but the dates formed a pattern. She recognized the numbers from her father’s recipes.
“These aren’t financial records,” she said. “They’re coordinates.”
Roman studied the page. “Coordinates to what?”
“Safe locations. Payment drops. Meeting places.”
Susan touched the edge of the paper. “Daniel used baking measurements because Dominic never looked at recipes.”
“And the orange zest?” Claire asked.
“A marker for records Daniel considered safe to release.”
Roman’s attention shifted to the office. “Someone took the marked pages.”
Claire noticed a smear of blue paint near the safe. “No. They left one.”
She followed the paint to a loose floorboard. Beneath it was a narrow metal tube containing a microfilm strip and a handwritten note.
The note read: Roman, if you are reading this, you were not the one I feared. I was.
Roman’s face went still.
The microfilm showed photographs of Dominic meeting several men. One face appeared repeatedly: Peter Duke.
Susan covered her mouth. “Peter.”
Roman shook his head. “He was a courier.”
“He was more than that,” Claire said. “Look at the dates.”
The photographs matched the dates of several crimes attributed to Dominic. Peter had been present at every transfer.
Footsteps sounded above them.
Roman drew a weapon. Claire felt fear, but not helplessness. She scanned the room and saw the overhead sprinklers, the old conveyor system, and a red emergency lever.
Three men entered through the upper catwalk. One fired toward Roman. The shot struck a metal beam.
Roman returned fire only once, forcing the man behind a column. Ellis and Mateo moved along opposite walls.
Claire pulled the emergency lever. The conveyor belt roared to life, dragging loose crates across the floor and cutting off the attackers’ path. Water burst from the sprinklers, turning dust into mud.
“Claire!” Roman shouted.
“You’re welcome!”
One attacker slipped from the catwalk. Roman caught his wrist before he fell. The man looked down at him and laughed.
“Victor sends his regards.”
Roman hauled him up. “Victor didn’t send you.”
The man’s smile vanished.
Claire noticed the tattoo behind his ear: a small red ribbon.
The same ribbon used with the key.
The attacker bit down on something hidden in his mouth and collapsed. Mateo checked his pulse. “Alive.”
Roman turned to Claire. “You could have been killed.”
“So could you.”
“I knew what I was doing.”
“You were standing beneath a falling man while people shot at you.”
His eyes locked on hers. “I would do it again.”
The words were not romantic. They were a vow, and Claire did not know whether to trust it.
Sirens grew louder. Roman collected the microfilm.
Peter appeared at the warehouse entrance, pale and breathless. “You need to give me that.”
Roman aimed his weapon at him. “Why?”
Peter looked at Claire. “Because your father is alive.”
May you like
Claire’s world narrowed to that sentence.
Peter continued, “And Victor has him.”
