Chapter 12 - Pier Thirty-One
“No,” Dominic said.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You are not going to a pier at midnight while seven months pregnant.”
“I’m not letting them kill Dr. Levin.”
Ortiz cut in. “Neither of you are deciding this. We run the operation.”
For the next six hours, police built a controlled handoff. The flash drive in my purse was a copy. Officers hid in shipping buildings. Marco fitted a tiny microphone into the seam of my coat.
Dominic stood in front of me before I left.
“I should be doing this.”
“They asked for me.”
“I know.”
There were a hundred things between us—Cassandra, the kiss, the secrets, the ring still sitting in an evidence bag at the hotel.
He only said, “Come back.”
I answered, “Keep the babies safe.”
At 11:57 p.m., I walked onto the pier alone.
Lake Michigan was black beside me. Wind cut through my coat.
A van waited near the warehouse.
The side door opened.
Victor Moretti stepped out.
Sixty-two years old. Silver hair. Cashmere coat. The man who had held Dominic as a child after his father died. The man who had kissed my cheek at Christmas.
“Ava,” he said warmly. “You look tired.”
I almost hated him more for sounding kind.
“Where is Dr. Levin?”
“Safe.”
“Show me.”
He smiled. “You always did negotiate like you belonged in the family.”
“I never wanted to belong to this.”
“That is why you were useful.”
He stepped closer.
“Give me the drive.”
“Give me the doctor.”
The van door opened wider.
Dr. Levin was inside.
Alive.
I reached into my purse.
Victor’s eyes followed my hand.
Then gunfire exploded from the far warehouse.
Not from police.
Someone else was shooting.
Victor grabbed me and pulled me behind the van.
“Who is that?” I shouted.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
“Not mine.”
A second SUV crashed through the pier gate.
Cassandra jumped out.
She screamed one name.
“Dominic!”
May you like
I turned.
My husband was in the passenger seat, bleeding from the shoulder.
