Part 8
“It was regrettable.”
“Was it?”
“Necessary.”
Vincent’s eyes turned glacial.
“You are standing in my home calling my murder necessary.”
“I am standing in your home offering you an opportunity.”
Caleb looked at Molly.
“She possesses information worth far more than whatever sentimental debt you believe you owe her.”
Vincent said nothing.
Caleb continued.
“Turn her over to me, and the problem ends.”
Molly felt something twist in her chest.
She hated herself for wondering.
Just for one second.
Vincent Hale was a criminal.
A powerful one.
Why should he sacrifice anything for a waitress he had met less than two hours earlier?
Caleb seemed to sense the doubt.
“You don’t know him, Molly.”
“No,” Vincent said. “She does not.”
Caleb smiled.
Vincent continued.
“But she knew enough to stop me from eating before she knew whether my men would shoot her.”
His voice became quieter.
“That tells me more about her than years of background reports tell me about most people.”
Caleb’s expression hardened.
“You are being irrational.”
“Possibly.”
Vincent stepped between Caleb and Molly.
“But you made one mistake.”
Caleb lifted his chin.
“And what is that?”
“You assumed I would value my empire more than the person who saved the man running it.”
Molly stared at his back.
Caleb’s men raised their weapons.
Grant moved.
The next seconds blurred.
A gunshot cracked into the ceiling as Grant struck the nearest attacker’s arm aside.
Vincent drove Caleb behind a column.
Molly ducked.
Glass shattered.
Someone shouted.
Then Molly saw the small canister roll across the floor.
Her stomach turned.
Not again.
A faint vapor began leaking from it.
“Back!” Molly screamed.
Vincent looked toward her.
“Everybody back!”
Caleb laughed from behind the column.
“You always were predictable.”
Molly froze.
Predictable.
That word.
She remembered Evan saying it years ago while they sat on the floor of her apartment, eating pizza after midnight.
You beat smart people by finding the thing they’re too proud to change.
Caleb loved controlled environments.
He trusted systems.
He assumed everyone else would follow the safest path.
Molly looked toward the ceiling.
The penthouse had a commercial fire suppression system.
“Natalie!” Molly shouted.
The doctor appeared behind the hallway wall.
“Kitchen control panel. Turn on every emergency ventilation fan.”
Natalie ran.
Caleb shouted something.
Molly ignored him.
“Grant, break the balcony seal!”
Grant understood.
He fired into the locking mechanism of the sliding glass wall.
Vincent yanked the panel open.
Wind exploded through the penthouse.
The vapor reversed direction.
Straight toward Caleb.
His confidence disappeared.
“No!”
He rushed from behind the column.
Vincent tackled him before he reached the hallway.
Grant forced the second attacker to the floor.
Within seconds, the remaining vapor was being dragged out into the cold night through the open balcony doors.
Caleb lay facedown beneath Vincent’s knee.
Molly approached slowly.
Caleb looked up at her.
“You think this fixes anything?”
“No.”
“You have nothing.”
Molly stared at him.
Then she realized something.
Caleb was smiling.
Even now.
He believed he still had control.
Why?
“You never found Evan’s package,” she said.
Caleb’s smile faltered.
There.
Molly felt her heartbeat change.
“You don’t know where it is.”
Caleb said nothing.
“You spent three years watching me because you thought I had it.”
“I know you did.”
“No.”
Molly’s eyes filled.
May you like
“I didn’t.”
Caleb stared at her.
