Chapter 10 - The Lake House Trap
My eyes darted from Vane’s cold, smiling face to the barrel of the silenced pistol aimed at the doorway.
Anna was out there in the station wagon. If she got impatient, if she decided to ignore my warning and walk up to the house to check on me, she would walk straight into a crossfire. The federal emergency beacon I had triggered in my purse was currently pulsing a silent signal toward a secure satellite relay in Washington, but Washington was two hundred miles away.
Right now, I was entirely on my own.
"You think killing me will clean the ledger?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, buying precious seconds as my hand slid deeper into my leather purse, searching past the encrypted communicator until my fingers brushed against the cold, familiar steel of my old service Sig Sauer—the one Frank had insisted I keep hidden beneath the floorboards of the study closet.
"We aren't going to kill you, Rachel," Vane replied smoothly, placing the digital signature pad down on the mahogany desk. "We’re going to reassign you. Just like old times. The syndicate needs a brilliant financial investigator who can make a few billion dollars vanish into the ether without raising federal alarms."
He gestured to the guard. "Help her sign the document."
The guard stepped forward, reaching out a heavy hand to grab my wrist and drag me toward the desk.
That was his mistake.
In the tight space of the study, he closed the distance just enough to break his own line of sight.
I didn't hesitate. I whipped my hand out of my purse, the 9mm pistol clearing the leather lining with a sharp metallic snap, and fired straight through my handbag into the floorboards between the guard's boots.
The deafening roar of the gunshot shattered the quiet of the lake house.
The guard shrieked, stumbling backward over a stack of fallen books, dropping his silenced weapon as he hit the floor.
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Before Vane could even reach into his suit jacket, I pivoted, leveling the barrel of my gun square against the center of his chest.
"Hands on the desk, Julian," I said, my voice echoing off the study walls with absolute, freezing lethal calm. "Or the next audit is going to be post-mortem."
