Page 83

Alex steps forward smoothly, producing an envelope from his inner jacket pocket. The folder contains everything we've prepared—the false ID, banking information, transaction receipts, all bearing the Blackwood name and details. The forgeries are flawless, indistinguishable from legitimate documents even under close scrutiny.

The man takes the envelope, nodding toward his colleague, who remains on the boat. He doesn't examine the documents himself, instead passing them to the other man, who begins scrutinizing them with unsettling thoroughness. My heart pounds against my ribs, but I keep my expression neutral.

“Authentication protocol requires verification," the man says, his accent thickening slightly. "You will place your hand on this."

He produces a small, black device from his pocket—flat, rectangular, with a glowing blue screen on one side.

“What is that?" I ask, injecting just the right amount of suspicious disdain into my voice.

“Biometric verification,” he replies evenly. “Standard procedure for transactions of this magnitude."

Shit. We didn't anticipate biometric scanning. I can feel Alex tensing behind me, though his face remains impassive.

“I don't recall agreeing to biometric verification when I made my purchase," I say coldly. “My documentation should be sufficient considering my previous investment.”

The man's expression doesn't change. "No scan, no sample. Those are the terms."

A standoff. I can almost hear Alex calculating our odds if this goes sideways—two against two, but they have the advantage of the boat for a quick escape. Plus, we don't know what's in the water around us.

“What exactly does this device scan for?" I demand, buying time.

“Pulse, body temperature, standard identification markers. It ensures you are who you claim to be, Mr. Blackwood.”

A knot forms in my stomach as I weigh our options. If I refuse, we lose our only lead to Luca. If I comply and the scanner detects any anomaly, we're dead men.

“Fine," I snap, extending my hand with an impatient scowl. "But make it quick. I have dinner reservations at eight."

The device feels cool against my palm, a blue light scanning from my wrist to fingertips. I maintain my bored expression, though my pulse hammers so hard that I'm certain the machine can detect it. The man studies the readout, his face betraying nothing.

After what feels like an eternity, he nods once and returns our documents.

"On the boat," he orders, gesturing toward the sleek vessel.

I freeze. "Excuse me?"

“Your purchase is not here. You come with us to complete the transaction."

“That wasn't the arrangement," I reply coldly. “The pickup location was specified as this dock."

“This is the pickup location. For you. Sample is elsewhere.”

“Unacceptable," I declare, channeling every entitled billionaire I've ever met. “I was promised delivery at this location. I don't have time for nautical excursions.”

“Then you don't get what you paid for." His hand shifts subtly toward his jacket.

Alex steps forward, voice low and deferential but with steel underneath. "Sir, perhaps we should consider their terms.”

I hesitate, but the hard gleam in the man's eyes tells me this isn't negotiable. My mind races through the options, none of them good. Refuse and lose our only lead to Luca. Agree, and potentially walk into a trap. But what choice do we really have?

“Fine,” I snap. "But I expect compensation for this inconvenience."

I catch the guard rolling his eyes. He believes I'm just another entitled, rich asshole. Good.

“Your man stays here,” he says, nodding toward Alex.

“Absolutely not,” I counter immediately. “My driver comes with me. I don't travel without security.”

The two men exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them before the one on the boat gives a barely perceptible nod.