The Price of Mercy and the Shadow of the Moretti Family
“He is cold,” Vincent said simply. “Do not let your fear make you paranoid, Lena.”
“Paul made me paranoid,” I said. “It is the only reason I am still breathing.”
Vincent did not reply, his attention returning to his phone as it buzzed on the desk.
He looked at the screen, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.
“The Cyprus account has been flagged for a compliance audit,” Vincent said. “Corrado’s funds are frozen.”
“He will know someone leaked the numbers,” I said.
“He will think it was Paul,” Vincent said. “Paul is the only one with the keys.”
I sat down in the armchair, the warmth of the fire slowly reaching my damp clothes.
I closed my eyes, but I could still see the green numbers on Paul’s computer screen.
I could still hear the sound of his heavy footsteps coming down the hall toward our bedroom.
Outside, the wind howled, rattling the glass behind the heavy drapes.
I stood up and walked to the window, pulling the edge of the velvet drape back by an inch.
Down on the street, Miller was still standing by the gate.