Chapter 3 - The Audit
The cold metal of Larkin’s gun dug into the delicate silk of my dress.
I didn't tremble, and I didn't beg for my life.
I looked down at the weapon, then slowly brought my eyes back up to meet his furious gaze.
"If you pull that trigger, Larkin, you will be in federal prison by Monday morning."
Larkin’s jaw clenched, his finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.
"You stole three million dollars from a crime syndicate, Penelope."
"People die for stealing twenty bucks in this business."
"I didn't steal it to keep it," I stated sharply.
"I moved it into a blind trust because your cousin Thomas is setting you up."
Larkin froze, the gun wavering just a fraction of an inch.
"What are you talking about?"
I took a slow breath, forcing myself to remain the calm, invisible accountant he relied on.
"For the last six months, Thomas has been funneling dirty money from human trafficking rings into your clean corporate accounts."
"He leaves a digital paper trail pointing directly to your signature."
"The three million dollars I moved yesterday was bait."
"The FBI is executing a silent audit on your main servers tomorrow."
"If that money had been sitting in your Cayman account, it would have given them the probable cause they need to arrest you under RICO laws."
Larkin stared at me, his brilliant, calculating mind processing the information at lightning speed.
He knew his cousin was greedy, but treason was a death sentence.
"How could you possibly know about an FBI audit?" Larkin asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"Because balancing your books isn't my only skill," I said.
"I notice patterns, and I noticed the feds pinging our firewall three weeks ago."
Larkin slowly lowered the gun, stepping back to give me room to breathe.
He looked at me as if he was seeing me for the very first time.
Not as a joke, not as a secretary, but as a lifeline.
"You risked your life to save me?" Larkin asked, genuine confusion breaking through his cold exterior.
"I need my job, Mr. Steves," I replied, smoothing the fabric of my dress.
"And you pay for my premium health insurance."
The corner of Larkin’s mouth twitched, threatening to form a smile.
Before he could speak, a deafening crack shattered the silence of the VIP lounge.
The floor-to-ceiling window behind me exploded into a million jagged shards of glass.
A high-caliber sniper bullet tore through the air, missing my head by less than an inch.
May you like
Larkin tackled me to the floor just as a second bullet shredded the expensive leather sofa.
The mahogany doors burst open, and a man in a black tactical mask stepped into the room, raising a suppressed assault rifle.
