Chapter 2 - The Locked Door

The heavy knock on the oak door echoed like a gunshot through the silent office.

I placed my index finger over my lips, signaling Hannah to remain absolutely quiet.

I gently handed little Grace back to her terrified mother.

I pointed toward the heavy velvet curtains covering the corner alcove of the room.

Hannah nodded quickly and hid herself and the baby entirely behind the dark fabric.

I quickly folded Julian's warning note and slipped it deep into my suit pocket.

I walked over to the door and unlocked the heavy brass deadbolt.

Vincent Rizzo stood in the hallway with a strange, unnatural smile on his wrinkled face.

He asked if he was interrupting important business.

I smoothly lied and told him I was just reviewing the final ledgers for the transaction.

Vincent stepped inside and his sharp eyes immediately scanned the large room.

He casually mentioned that his security team was looking for Hannah's missing baby.

I walked back behind my desk and asked him why he cared about a maid's child.

Vincent coldly replied that an unaccounted child was a major security risk during a massive money transfer.

He slowly walked toward the center of the expensive Persian rug.

He asked me if I had seen Hannah wandering around the upper floors.

I shook my head and said she was probably just hiding in the laundry room downstairs.

Vincent did not look completely convinced by my casual excuse.

He placed his hands in his pockets and began pacing slowly near the velvet curtains.

My heart hammered violently against my ribs, but I kept my face perfectly neutral.

I asked him if the sixty million dollars was securely loaded into the armored vehicles.

Vincent stopped pacing and turned to face me with a completely blank expression.

He said the money was safe, but there was a slight complication with the buyer.

I demanded to know what kind of complication could possibly happen in my own secure garage.

Vincent smiled and said the cartel representatives wanted to renegotiate the final terms.

I knew immediately that he was lying to stall for time.

I slid my hand slowly under the edge of my desk toward my hidden pistol.

Before my fingers could touch the cold metal, Vincent's eyes darted downward.

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Resting on the floor, just inches away from the velvet curtain, was Grace's single white baby sock.

Vincent slowly pulled a heavy, suppressed handgun from inside his tailored jacket and aimed it directly at the curtains.