Chapter 5 - THE POISON IN THE MOTHER'S VEINS
"Neurotoxin?" I repeated, the word tearing the breath from my lungs. "You poisoned her?!"
"She has forty-five minutes before her nervous system completely shuts down," Sloane said casually over the radio, as if discussing the weather. "Bring the receipt, Nico. Bring the deeds. And come alone. If I see a single one of your guards, Evelyn dies in agony."
The line went dead.
I stared at the radio, my hands flying to my mouth to stifle a sob. My mother had survived a stroke, twenty-three years of hiding, and a lifetime of poverty, only to die on the filthy floor of a shipping warehouse because of me.
"She's going to kill her," I wept, sinking onto the edge of the cot. "Even if we give her the receipt, she'll kill us all to tie up the loose ends."
"I know," Nico said. He was pacing the bunker, his mind working with terrifying, lethal efficiency. "Sloane doesn't want hostages. She wants an execution."
He stopped and looked at me. The ruthless mafia boss was fully awakened now.
"We give her what she wants," Nico stated.
"You're going to hand over your empire?" I asked, wiping my eyes.
"I'm going to hand over a piece of paper," Nico corrected. He opened a heavy steel safe built into the bunker wall. He pulled out a stack of legal documents and a thick, leather-bound ledger.
"This is the master ledger of the Bellini syndicate," Nico explained, tossing it onto the table. "It contains every offshore account, every property deed, every bribe my family has paid for the last forty years. It's the key to the kingdom."
"If you give her that, your family is ruined."
"If I don't give her that, your mother dies," Nico said simply, without a second of hesitation.
The fact that he was willing to trade his entire legacy for my mother's life shattered the last wall I had built against him. I threw my arms around his neck, holding him tight.
"Thank you," I choked out into his shoulder.
Nico wrapped his strong arms around me, holding me firmly. He kissed the top of my head, lingering for a moment before stepping back.
"Don't thank me yet," Nico said, his eyes hardening. "Sloane is arrogant, but she isn't stupid. She’ll have the docks surrounded by snipers. If I walk in there, I’ll be dead before I reach the door."
"Then how do we get the antidote?"
Nico walked over to a weapons rack and began strapping a Kevlar vest over his ruined tuxedo shirt.
"I'm going to cause a distraction at the front gates," Nico outlined. "While her men are focused on me, you are going to slip in through the water drainage grates beneath the piers. You get to your mother, you find the antidote, and you get her out."
"Me?" I panicked. "I'm a housekeeper, Nico! I don't know how to fight!"
Nico picked up a small, silver revolver from the table and held it out to me.
"You are Arthur Bennett's daughter," Nico said fiercely. "You have the blood of a survivor in your veins. You don't have to fight them, Nora. You just have to be invisible."
I stared at the gun. My hands trembled as I took it, feeling the heavy, cold weight of reality settling into my bones.
We left the bunker and drove toward the massive, industrial shipping district on Lake Michigan. The fog was rolling in thick, blanketing the docks in a gray, suffocating shroud.
Nico stopped the car three blocks away.
"The drainage pipe is under Pier 4," Nico instructed, pointing to a rusted grate near the waterline. "It leads directly into the basement of the main warehouse. Sloane will be holding her on the upper catwalks."
He reached out and gently cupped my cheek.
"You have twenty minutes, Nora. If things go wrong... use the gun."
"I will," I promised.
I slipped out of the car, pulling my father’s oversized canvas coat tightly around me to fight the freezing dampness. I climbed down the concrete embankment and waded into the icy, knee-deep water.
I found the rusted grate, pushed it open, and crawled into the dark, echoing pipe.
The smell of stagnant water and oil was nauseating. I moved as quietly as I could, following the faint yellow light ahead.
Suddenly, the deafening roar of automatic gunfire erupted from the street above.
Nico had started his distraction.
I scrambled up a rusted iron ladder and pushed open a floor grate, rolling into the dimly lit basement of the warehouse.
Above me, I heard boots pounding across the metal catwalks. Men were shouting, rushing toward the front of the building to engage Nico.
I crept up a metal stairwell, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst.
I peeked through the railing of the second-floor overlook.
In the center of the warehouse floor, tied to a wooden chair, was my mother. Her head slumped forward, her breathing shallow and ragged.
Standing ten feet away from her, watching the security monitors, was Sloane.
She held a small, silver metal case in her hand. The antidote.
I gripped the revolver, stepping out from the stairwell. I had the drop on her.
But as I raised the gun, a voice echoed from the shadows behind my mother.
"I wouldn't do that, Nora."
I froze.
Stepping into the light, holding a suppressed pistol aimed directly at my mother's head, was the last person I ever expected to see.
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It was Marco. Nico's head of security.
TITLE: THE TRAITOR IN THE TUXEDO
