Chapter 7
The sensor box beside the gate flashed from red to green with a crisp, electronic beep.
The heavy steel gate groaned on its hydraulic tracks, sliding open with agonizing slowness. Behind me, the roar of the Charger’s engine rose to a deafening crescendo as Marcus realized what I was doing. He wasn't going to wait for the gate to open; he was going to pin me against the fence.
I didn't wait for the gate to clear the frame.
The moment there was an eight-foot gap, I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal. The Volvo lurched forward, its right side mirror clipping the steel fence post with a sickening crack, shattering the glass and sending plastic flying across the gravel. The SUV scraped through the opening, the metal screeching like fingernails on a chalkboard, before we broke through into the private loading courtyard.
Behind us, the hydraulic gate continued its automatic cycle, slowly sliding shut.
Marcus’s driver stomped on the brakes. The Charger’s tires screamed against the wet pavement, smoke billowing from the rubber as the heavy sedan slid sideways, stopping less than three inches from the closing steel bars.
The gate slammed shut with a concussive metallic thud, the heavy magnetic deadbolt engaging with an audible click.
We were inside. They were locked out.
I threw the Volvo into park, breathing so hard my vision swam with black spots. In the backseat, Leo was weeping quietly, his face buried in his dinosaur's plush belly.
“We’re okay, baby,” I gasped, unbuckling my seatbelt and scrambling into the rear seat to pull him into my arms. “We’re safe. Nobody can get through that gate.”
Through the tinted rear window, I watched the Charger’s doors swing open under the yellow floodlights of the perimeter fence.
Two men stepped out.
The driver was a thick-necked enforcer in a leather bomber jacket, but the man who stepped out of the passenger side was unmistakably Marcus. He was fifty years old, impeccably dressed in a tailored camel-hair overcoat, with slicked-back gray hair and a cold, calculating face that belonged in a courtroom rather than a back-alley shakedown.
Marcus didn't kick the gate. He didn't shout. He walked slowly to the steel bars, pulled a cigarette from an embossed silver case, and lit it with a gold lighter. He took a long drag, exhaling a thick plume of gray smoke into the freezing night air, staring directly at my silver SUV.
Then, he pulled his phone from his coat pocket and tapped the screen.
On the front passenger seat of my Volvo, my phone began to ring.
I held Leo against my chest, reached forward, and hit the speakerphone button once more.
“You’re smarter than your husband, Lauren,” Marcus’s voice echoed through the car, smooth and entirely unbothered by the high-speed pursuit. “I respect that. A woman who knows how to protect her family is rare these days.”
“The county police barracks are four hundred yards down the road, Marcus,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “I have this call recorded on my cloud server. If those gates are touched, four cruisers will be in this lot in ninety seconds.”
“I’m not touching your gates,” Marcus chuckled softly. “I don't need to break into a hair salon to collect forty-two thousand dollars. But you should probably check your home security cameras right now.”
My blood ran cold. “What did you do?”
“I didn't do anything,” Marcus replied, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. “My secondary crew arrived at your house five minutes ago to collect the physical collateral Ryan offered when the wire transfer failed. They’re currently cleaning out your jewelry box, your electronics, and that antique safe in your master closet. You know, the one with your mother’s pearls and your late father’s coin collection?”
My breath caught in my throat. Carol had the key to that safe. I had given it to her three months ago in case of an emergency while I was at work.
May you like
“Carol wouldn't let you near that safe,” I choked out, though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.
“Carol opened the front door for them, sweetheart,” Marcus said, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. “In exchange for twenty-five hundred dollars in cash and a ride to her sister's house in Delaware. Your mother-in-law sold you out for grocery money. Have a good night, Lauren. We’ll be in touch about the balance.”
