Page 24 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)
The Double Cross
The warehouse was deathly quiet. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand up.
A thick fog crept off the waterside, enveloping the empty containers and rusting machinery. The stinging air had the faint scent of salt and oil, but Sam's focus was on the black SUV parked in front of him with the engine still running.
Aleksei Morozov sat in the backseat of his own car, hands cuffed in his lap, staring out the window with an unnatural composure. The man had barely spoken the entire trip.
"End of the line," Sam growled, exiting and shutting the door behind him.
The SUV doors swung wide, and two men in black suits emerged, dragging a limp figure between them. Vanessa. Her head hung to the side, eyes barely open. She had been drugged to make it easier for them to control her.
Sam's grip on his gun grew tighter.
The exchange was simple: Aleksei for Vanessa. No bloodshed.
One of the men shoved Vanessa in Sam's direction.
Aleksei stepped forward, his movements too smooth, too deliberate for a man in chains.
Sam's instincts screamed at him that something was about to go wrong and that he needed to get Vanessa out of there immediately.
But before he could react, the shooting started. Bullets rang down the metal rungs.
Sam couldn't tell if the attack had been against him and the other two men, Vanessa, or Aleksei.
Sam did not hesitate. He quickly pulled Vanessa down, positioning his body in front of her as he brought out his gun. His men were already firing back, but the attackers were not trying to shoot them.
That was when Sam realized that they were trying to create chaos. Through smoke and shifting darkness, Sam saw Aleksei.
He was not running towards anyone. He was running away.
The cuffs hung loose on one of his wrists, the metal reflecting the streetlights. He had been waiting for this.
Sam rose trying to get a clean shot at Aleksei but a bullet breezed past his ear and he ducked.
"Damn it," Sam spat.
By the time the last shot had faded into the night, Aleksei was gone.
The men who had brought Vanessa were in a panic, their faces as confused as Sam's. Who the hell had let a killer loose?
Sam clenched his teeth as he sped down the highway, Vanessa still slumped in the passenger seat. He picked up his phone and called Makros.
Makros picked up on the second ring.
"The girl is contained. The prisoner..." Sam took a deep breath. "Escaped."
"WHAT?"
Sam yanked the phone from his ear as Makros's fury boiled over the speaker. There was the sharp shattering of glass, then a thud, something, most likely, tossed across the room.
"You're telling me we granted Aleksei his bloody freedom? After all the crap I had to suffer to get him?" Makros's breathing was labored, staccato . "Nicolai, what the fuck went wrong? It was supposed to be a clean exchange."
Sam's voice was still steady. "A third party was involved. They shot at us but they weren't trying to kill us. Someone wanted to use it as a diversion. Aleksei used it to escape."
There was a small silence. Then Makros's voice came out again, but this time more subdued. Menacing.
"Was this something the ambassador could've pulled off?"
"Not likely," Sam conceded. "This felt more like Aleksei's plan."
Makros breathed slowly, calming himself as he tried to think through the anger.
"What about the girl?" Sam glanced at Vanessa. The drugs were fading, her hands jerking uncomfortably against the seat. It was pointless holding onto her now.
"Take her home," Makros finally spoke, his voice low but firm.
Sam nodded, even though Makros couldn't see him. "Right."
The call ended.
It was dawn when Sam arrived at the private home of the ambassador. Security came to life, scanning the faces in the car before automatically opening the gates.
The ambassador came out almost immediately. He'd been waiting all night. He pulled Vanessa into a hug, but she did not respond because she was still very much drowsy.
His gaze went up to Sam. "What is it?"
"I'd like to quit and go work for the Cretes."
"But Sam, you're our best bodyguard."
“It’s just...the Cretes are more dangerous to cross. And my wife doesn’t want me risking my life for something we can walk away from.”
The Ambassador hesitated, then nodded. "Tell Makros that I thank him. He helped me make the right choice. And I won't forget it."
A favor. That was something. But Makros would not see it that way.
He sat in his office, staring at the whiskey glass in his hand but not drinking from it. The deal had been made. The girl returned. But Aleksei was still out there, and no one knew who had helped him.
Makros never left anything to luck. So why did it feel like someone was playing him behind his back?
He thought of the Crete family. His people. And for the first time, the idea crossed his mind that someone from the inside could be trying to sabotage him.
The glass in his hand creaked slightly under his grip.
He would find out, and if he did, there would be a hell of a price to pay.
Makros poured himself another glass.
A single knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. Then the gentle voice of one of his maids called out. " Signor Makros, your father wants to see you. Now."
Makros closed his eyes briefly. This had been expected. The old man would not be pleased.
Makros stood in front of his father's study door, his nerves taut as a string on a violin. When he entered, Don Matteo did not lift up his head. Instead, he sat behind his massive desk, his fingers mechanically turning the pages of a book.
"You lost him," said the Don, his voice chilly, flat, devoid of feeling.
Makros stood up straight, his shoulders squared. He would not be made to appear weak. "I gained the ambassador's favor."
"A favor," Don Matteo echoed, his tone almost sarcastic. "And what about the guns? What about the prisoner? What about the fact that someone in our midst is working against us? For all the effort you put into your plans, Makros, you still managed to screw everything up. You never missed, what’s happening with you?”