Chapter 7: The Trap at the Docks
The gray morning broke over Lake Michigan with a cold, biting mist. Derek arrived at the rusted warehouse near the old docks—a storage facility owned by an old friend of his father’s.
He climbed the metal stairs to the loft office, holding the waterproof briefcase close to his chest. But as he pushed the door open, the sight before him made his blood run cold.
Angela was tied to a wooden chair, her mouth gagged, eyes wide with terror.
Standing behind her was Vance Corporation’s chief legal counsel, Raymond Sterling—a man who had sat at the Vance family Thanksgiving table for twenty-five years.
“Good morning, Derek,” Sterling said with a sleek, predatory smile, adjusting his cuffs. “You really should have left the state when you had the chance.”
“You were my father’s best friend, Raymond,” Derek said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous tone. “He trusted you with his life.”
“And I gave him forty years of loyal service for modest retainers,” Sterling sneered. “Marcus offered me ten percent of a billion-dollar redevelopment deal. Loyalty is an expensive luxury in this city.”
May you like
Two armed guards emerged from the stairwell behind Derek, cutting off his only exit.
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