Chapter 9 - The Night Vincent Disappeared
Vincent listened.
Marco said, “Ask her what Derek was really looking for the night she climbed into your car.”
The call ended.
Vincent returned to Derek.
“What was it?”
Derek hesitated.
“The flash drive.”
“You said that before.”
“It wasn’t mine.”
“Whose?”
“Chloe’s.”
Vincent stared at him.
Derek explained.
Months earlier, Chloe had discovered files on Derek’s laptop.
She copied them.
She didn’t know they documented Marco’s financial network.
She hid the drive.
Derek had been ordered to recover it.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent thought of the first night.
Chloe’s bracelet.
Her torn clothes.
Her bare feet.
Then he remembered the cloth wrapped around his handgun.
He had cleaned it in the car.
Chloe had touched the cloth when she stumbled inside.
No.
Earlier.
The flash drive found on Derek had been planted.
A decoy.
Where would Chloe hide something while running?
Vincent returned to the Audi.
He searched the back seat.
Nothing.
Then he opened the emergency medical compartment.
Inside was a tiny black drive.
Chloe had hidden it during those first chaotic seconds.
Vincent smiled despite himself.
“Smart woman.”
The files contained everything.
Marco’s accounts.
His contacts.
His safe houses.
One location was active.
A private marina.
Vincent went alone.
That was his mistake.
Marco was waiting.
Vincent disappeared before dawn.
When Chloe escaped from the van hours later by kicking out a damaged rear panel, she called him.
No answer.
She called Marco.
“Where is Vincent?”
Marco laughed.
“Now you care about the mafia boss?”
“Yes.”
The admission surprised her.
It was true.
Not because he had rescued her.
Because he had never demanded payment for it.
Never asked her to belong to him.
Never confused protection with control.
Marco gave her an address.
Chloe knew it was a trap.
She went anyway—but not alone.
Maria.
Derek.
Federal agents.
Even Salvatore, from custody, provided information in exchange for consideration.
They converged on the marina.
Chloe found Vincent’s white shirt on the dock.
Blood stained the collar.
Her stomach dropped.
Then she saw footprints leading toward an old boathouse.
She approached.
The door was slightly open.
Inside, someone groaned.
“Vincent?”
No answer.
She pushed the door.
A chair stood in the center.
Ropes lay cut on the floor.
Vincent was gone.
Her phone buzzed.
A live location appeared.
Moving fast.
Toward the river.
Then a photograph arrived.
Vincent was aboard a boat.
May you like
Marco stood behind him.
And Marco was holding the flash drive Chloe had hidden.
