Chapter 8 - The Bait
Armed with the ultimate leverage, Adrian made a single phone call to the head of the rival syndicate in New York.
He outlined exactly what Blake Cavanaugh had been doing: stealing off the top, leaving a trail of messy evidence, and hiding the master ledger in a vulnerable apartment.
The silence on the other end of the line was heavier than a loaded gun.
“What do you want for the book, Moretti?” the cartel boss finally asked.
“I want Blake Cavanaugh at the abandoned shipping yards at midnight, alone, and I want your absolute assurance that your men will not interfere,” Adrian demanded.
The deal was struck in blood and silence.
As midnight approached, Mara insisted on riding in the armored vehicle that followed Adrian’s car to the docks.
“You should stay at the estate where it is safe,” Adrian argued gently, adjusting his holster over his shoulder.
Mara reached out, resting her hand flat against his heavily muscled chest.
“He stole two years of my life, Adrian,” she told him, her voice ringing with newfound steel. “I need to see his empire crumble with my own eyes.”
Reluctantly, Adrian agreed, wrapping her in his heavy coat and swearing to keep her behind the bulletproof glass of the SUV.
The docks were shrouded in a thick, eerie fog rolling off the Patapsco River, smelling of salt and rusted iron.
Floodlights illuminated a central clearing where Blake Cavanaugh stood waiting, looking smug and confident in his expensive navy coat.
He still believed his cartel bosses had sent him here to negotiate a truce with Moretti.
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He had absolutely no idea that he was standing on an executioner's block.
Adrian stepped out of his vehicle alone, the master ledger clutched firmly in his left hand.
