Chapter 7 - The Message
The third man—the leader—panicked. He leveled his gun and fired blindly into the dark. The suppressed shots sounded like violent sneezes, tearing into the drywall and shattering a nearby mirror.
I dove behind a heavy oak bookshelf. He was advancing, his flashlight beam slicing through the dust-filled air.
"Come out, little girl," he growled. "Your daddy sent us. We just want the book."
I pulled a small, heavy brass bookend from the shelf. I threw it hard against the far wall. The man spun toward the noise, firing a burst of rounds into the darkness.
It was all the opening I needed. I lunged from behind the shelf, tackling him around the waist. We crashed into the drywall. He was brutally strong, throwing me off him and raising his gun. But I was faster. I drew my combat knife and slashed upward, slicing clean through the tendons in his right wrist.
He screamed, dropping the weapon. I kicked his legs out from under him, pinned him to the floor with my knee on his chest, and pressed the cold barrel of my 9mm directly between his eyes.
"Who sent you?" I whispered, my voice echoing in the dark basement.
"V-Vargas!" he stammered, sweating profusely, staring cross-eyed at the gun. "The Vargas syndicate! Your father told us the ledger was here!"
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the manila envelope containing the ledger, and tossed it onto his chest.
"Take it," I ordered.
He blinked, confused. "What?"
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"Take the ledger back to Vargas. But you tell him this: Silas Sterling lied. The money he stole isn't in this book. This is just a copy. If Vargas wants his money, he needs to squeeze Silas, not me. And if any of you ever set foot on my property again, I won't leave you breathing. Do you understand?"
He nodded frantically. I stood up, letting him scramble to his feet and drag his unconscious partners out the way they came in.
