Chapter 7
The heavy glass doors swung shut behind the two men in dark suits, sealing off the restaurant’s exit routes with quiet finality. The entire dining room seemed to hold its breath as the taller of the two men scanned the tables, his gaze instantly locking onto the black suitcase resting by Elena’s feet. He didn't look at the manager, he didn't look at the cowering diners—his eyes were fixed entirely on the leather handle and the scarred tags dangling from it.
"Elena," the man said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that carried an unnatural authority across the quiet room. "You took a wrong turn leaving the office."
Ramon let out a choked gasp, pressing his back flat against the wall as if he could melt through the plaster. "How did you find us so fast? The transfer was clean!"
The man in the suit didn't even glance at Ramon. He kept walking forward, his polished oxfords clicking rhythmically against the floorboards until he stood just three feet away from the table. Behind him, the second man positioned himself near the main entrance, casually resting a hand inside his jacket.
"Nothing is clean when you steal from the board, Mr. Santos," the man replied smoothly. "You were told to liquidate and transfer, not pack a suitcase and take your mistress out for anniversary dinner."
Lisa stood frozen between the two factions, her phone still clutched tightly in her palm, though the call to Detective Vance had ended moments ago. The realization hit her like a physical blow: Ramon hadn't just committed white-collar fraud against a normal company. He had embezzled from organized crime, and the federal police were no longer the most dangerous people coming through that door.
"The suitcase contains the backup drives and the physical bearer bonds," Elena said, her voice remarkably steady as she nudged the black bag forward with her shoe. "I brought them here to hand them over to your courier. Ramon panicked."
"You lied to me," Ramon whispered, staring at Elena with eyes wide with absolute terror. "You said we were running away together. You said those bonds were our ticket out."
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Elena didn't look at him. "Ramon, you were always the liability. Someone had to carry the bag to the drop point, and it was never going to be me."
The lead suit reached down, his leather-gloved fingers wrapping around the handle of the black suitcase. But before he could lift it, the piercing sound of police sirens wailed outside, growing deafeningly loud as multiple squad cars converged on the front of the restaurant with flashing red and blue lights painting the dining room walls.
