Chapter 7
The subterranean holding cells beneath the Whitlock estate were a stark contrast to the bright, airy elegance of the upper floors. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the damp concrete walls and heavy steel doors.
Rafferty sat rigidly in the wheelchair, his tailored dark suit immaculate, his expression an unreadable mask of cold fury. Marcus pushed the chair, while two heavily armed guards flanked them.
Maura had insisted on following them down, her protective instincts overriding her fear of the dark basement. She walked closely beside Rafferty, her black maid dress blending into the shadows of the corridor.
They reached the reinforced door of the primary cell. Marcus punched a code into the keypad, and the heavy steel swung open with a metallic groan.
Gwendolyn was sitting on a metal bench bolted to the wall. Her luxurious polo-club outfit was ruined, stained with sand and sweat. Her diamond jewelry looked absurd in the bleak environment. She looked up as the door opened, a desperate, feral smile twisting her face when she saw Rafferty in the wheelchair.
"Look at you," Gwendolyn mocked, her voice hoarse. "The great Rafferty Whitlock, confined to a chair. How long until the capos realize you're broken?"
"Are you under the impression that my authority is derived from my ankle, Gwendolyn?" Rafferty asked calmly, signaling for Marcus to stop the chair just inside the cell.
"I know that the families respect strength," Gwendolyn sneered, standing up and walking toward the reinforced glass separating them. "And I know that the port authorities are currently holding a shipment of weapons because they are loyal to me. If you kill me, those weapons go to the feds, and half your capos go to prison."
Rafferty stared at her, his cold, observant eyes completely devoid of panic.
"Do you truly believe you are the only person in this family capable of securing a shipping route?" Rafferty inquired.
"I am the only one who knows the account numbers!" Gwendolyn shouted, slamming her hands against the glass. "You need me, Rafferty! You have to let me go!"
"I need nothing from a woman who ambushed me in broad daylight," Rafferty stated, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that chilled the air in the small room.
He turned his head slowly, looking at Maura. She stood quietly beside his chair, her expressive eyes watching the fallen matriarch with a mixture of pity and disgust.
"Maura," Rafferty said, his tone shifting to a terrifying, measured calm. "Do you recall the ledger Gwendolyn left in the library three days ago?"
Maura blinked, her sharp memory instantly recalling the small, leather-bound book the woman had carelessly left on a side table. "Yes, sir. The red one with the gold embossing."
"Did you happen to notice the sequence of numbers written on the inside cover before you returned it to her suite?" Rafferty asked.
Gwendolyn froze, all the color draining from her face.
"Yes, sir," Maura replied, her American accent ringing clearly in the concrete cell. "It was an offshore routing number. I memorized it because it was unusual."
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Rafferty turned his cold, unwavering gaze back to his cousin.
"Does it appear you are holding any cards at all, Gwendolyn?" Rafferty asked softly.
