Page 38 of The Sole Suspect
“I dated Michael briefly a few months ago,” Sarah confirmed, her fingers drumming nervously on the leather portfolio. “These are definitely forgeries, but good enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know better.”
Penny paced the small shop, his lucky penny pendant swinging with each agitated step. “And guess which buildings they’re targeting?”
“Which buildings?” I asked, though dread had already settled in my stomach like a stone.
Sarah pointed to the paragraph listing each property. “Wilson’s Bakery, The Hideaway, Tang’s Tea House, Maude’s Diner, Vintage Vogue, Winslow’s Pharmacy, and...”
“Cobblers’ Corner,” I finished, a shiver running through my body.
Dominic’s hand tightened on mine, his jaw clenched with anger. “They’ve strategically selected the buildings forming the heart of the district. Take these down and the rest becomes untenable.”
The brass bell chimed again as the door swung open. Blake Harrington strode in, his tailored suit impeccable as always, though his expression was grim. Rain dampened his shoulders, suggesting stormy weather accompanying the day’s unfortunate tidings.
“I see congratulations are in order,” he said, eyes sweeping over our small group before settling on Dominic. His gaze shifted to the mark visible on my neck. “Though your timing couldn’t be worse.”
“What’s happened?” Dominic asked, stepping forward.
Blake ran a hand through his rain-damp hair. “Brian’s sold you out. He’s been feeding information to Vertex’s executive team about your undercover work for months.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Dominic went statue-still beside me, only the subtle change inhis scent—pine and cinnamon sharpening to something closer to cedar and clove—betrayed his shock and fury.
“What?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
“Brian?” Penny looked between us, confusion evident in his expression. “The Ken doll with the too-white teeth? I knew there was something off about him!”
“I’ve been tracking him since the auction,” Blake continued, his expression darkening. “That’s when I first noticed it—one of the Antonelli family members was there.”
“At the bachelor auction?” Dominic’s eyes widened. “Which one?”
“Vito,” Blake said, his jaw tightening. “Vito Romano Antonelli. I didn’t recognize him at first—I’ve only seen photos, never in person. But when he bid on that little blond fellow?—”
“Jake,” I cut in, my pulse quickening. “He bid on Jake.”
“Two thousand dollars,” Penny recalled, twisting his pendant between his fingers. “I thought it was just some rich Italian guy with a thing for blonds.”
“It was no coincidence,” Blake said grimly. “The Antonellis have been looking for Jake Thompson for months. He witnessed something he shouldn’t have at their restaurant in Boston before he fled here.”
“Oh god,” I whispered, the pieces clicking into place—Jake witnessing his boss shooting someone, Holloway’s criminal connections, Jake’s panic at the auction.
“Jake’s in serious trouble.” Penny remarked, uncharacteristically solemn.
“We all are,” Blake continued. “After the auction, Vito reported to his bosses. That’s when they connected Jake to you, and you to Dominic. They now know Dominic’s been feeding information about their operations with Vertex to me and the historical trust. I suspect they’ve put a price on Jake’s head.”
Through our new bond, I felt the storm of emotions raging within Dominic—betrayal, fury, and beneath it all, a deep sense of failure that made my chest ache. I slipped my arm around his waist, offering silent support.
“That’s not all,” Blake added, checking his watch with growing tension. “Brian filed a criminal complaint this morning. Corporate espionage, theft of confidential documents, conspiracy—all fabricated, but enough to get an arrest warrant. I came as soon as I heard, but?—”
The wail of police sirens cut him off, the sound growing louder as multiple vehicles approached.
“Too late,” Blake finished, moving to the window. He drew back the curtain to reveal three police cruisers pulling up outside the shop, lights flashing against the darkening afternoon sky.
“Oh my god,” Penny whispered, his hand finding mine and squeezing tight. The scent of his fear—sweetness turned sharp with acid—filled my shop.
“What’s happening?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer.
“Brian’s made sure the Antonellis and the police know you’re here—made sure they got to you at the same time,” Blake said, his voice tight. “It’s a setup, Dom. The Antonellis will have people watching the police station, waiting for you to be processed.”
Blake’s gaze darted to me with clear intent. “They’re sending a message.”