Chapter 5 - Pier Seventeen
Alidoro survived.
Barely.
The bullet missed his heart by less than an inch, and by afternoon he was under police guard at a Manhattan hospital.
Selena expected satisfaction.
Instead, she felt empty.
She had spent months imagining Alidoro regretting what he did to her.
She had imagined becoming successful enough, beautiful enough, happy enough that he would finally understand what he lost.
Now she understood something humiliating.
She had still been measuring herself through his eyes.
That evening, she stood before a mirror in Dempster’s mansion.
Size eighteen.
Soft stomach.
Wide hips.
The same body Alidoro had treated like an unfinished project.
Dempster appeared in the doorway.
“You ready?”
Selena turned.
His eyes traveled over her black pantsuit.
He said nothing.
“What?”
“I’m trying not to say the wrong thing.”
“That’s new.”
“You look beautiful.”
She waited for the qualifier.
There wasn’t one.
No for your size.
No when you make an effort.
Just beautiful.
Selena looked away first.
They had decoded Alidoro’s final clue.
“The place where Flores ships nothing.”
Pier Seventeen was an abandoned Flores International warehouse in Brooklyn.
Official records showed no cargo had moved through it for thirteen years.
But Selena’s model showed millions flowing through shell companies attached to its address.
Dempster’s security team wanted to enter first.
Selena insisted on joining after the building was cleared.
At 11:40 p.m., they arrived.
The warehouse looked dead.
Inside, however, they discovered an office hidden behind refrigerated storage.
Computers.
Paper ledgers.
Old photographs.
And a wall covered in shipping maps.
Dempster stopped at one photograph.
Matthew.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
The date stamp was eight months earlier.
Dempster touched the photograph with two fingers.
Selena saw his hand tremble.
“He’s alive.”
“Yes.”
A computer suddenly powered on.
A video began automatically.
A man appeared.
Matthew.
Dempster stepped closer.
The recording was dated that morning.
“If you’re seeing this, Dempster, Selena found the network.”
Dempster’s face drained of color.
Matthew continued.
“I’m sorry.”
Selena watched Dempster.
“For eleven years, you thought Serrano took me. The truth is worse. Dad sent me away.”
Dempster whispered, “What?”
“Our father discovered Serrano was using Flores routes to move weapons and launder money. He tried to stop it. Serrano threatened both of us.”
Matthew looked directly into the camera.
“Dad staged my disappearance.”
Dempster gripped the desk.
“He made me promise not to contact you because Serrano believed you knew nothing.”
The video continued.
“But Dad underestimated him. Serrano killed him anyway.”
Selena covered her mouth.
Her own father appeared next in an old photograph on Matthew’s desk.
Professor Edward Roundtree.
Dempster looked at her.
Matthew explained.
Edward had helped hide him.
For years, Selena’s father and Matthew secretly collected evidence.
Then Edward died in what police called a highway accident.
It hadn’t been an accident.
Selena’s knees weakened.
Dempster caught her.
This time she didn’t pull away.
Matthew’s final words filled the warehouse.
“Selena, your father saved my life. If you’re watching this, I owe you a debt I can never repay.”
The screen went black.
Then another message appeared.
DON’T TRUST THE FBI.
Lights died.
Gunfire erupted outside.
Dempster shoved Selena behind a steel cabinet.
“Stay down.”
Men rushed the warehouse.
Dempster’s security exchanged fire near the entrance.
A side door burst open.
A masked man grabbed Selena.
She slammed her heel onto his foot, twisted, and drove an elbow into his throat.
Dempster reached them seconds later.
The attacker fled.
“Selena!”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
She touched her temple.
A shallow cut.
“Still fine.”
Dempster cupped her face.
The gesture was so unexpectedly tender that everything around them seemed to disappear.
“You could have been killed.”
“So could you.”
“I’m accustomed to that.”
“Well, I’m not.”
His thumb brushed blood from her cheek.
Selena’s breath changed.
So did his.
For one suspended second, they almost kissed.
Then Dempster stepped back.
“Not like this.”
Selena blinked.
“What?”
“You’re frightened. You’ve been manipulated by enough men.”
His voice lowered.
“If I ever kiss you, Selena, I want you completely certain you asked for it.”
Something inside her shifted.
Before she could answer, one of his men called from the hidden office.
“Boss!”
They hurried inside.
A technician had recovered a second encrypted file.
One live location.
Northern New Jersey.
A house beside a lake.
Registered under a false name.
But a security camera had captured a man entering it twenty minutes earlier.
Matthew Flores.
Alive.
Dempster stared at the image.
May you like
Selena reached for his hand.
This time, he let her take it.
