Chapter 5 - An Offer Without Chains
Rick pressed his spine against the rattling glass, his chest heaving as he stared at Julian. The arrogance that usually defined his posture was gone, replaced by the sheer, unadulterated terror of a cornered predator realizing he was facing something much higher on the food chain.
""Vance,"" Rick stammered, raising his hands in front of him. ""Look, this is a domestic issue. Megan is my domestic partner. Under Rhode Island civil code, our financial assets are shared. You can’t interfere in private property disputes.""
""Private property?"" Julian stepped forward, closing the distance until Rick had to crane his neck to meet his gaze. Julian's presence was suffocating. ""Miss Walsh is not property. But that document you forged carrying my organization's counterfeit seal? That is a very public declaration of war against my house. Do you know what the penalty is for forging a Vance crest, Delaney?""
Rick swallowed hard, sweat beading across his forehead despite the cool dampness of the flower shop. ""It was just paper. A bluff to make her realize she had to help me.""
""It was fraud, extortion, and human trafficking under federal guidelines,"" Julian said calmly, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a slender manila envelope and tossed it against Rick’s chest. The paper slapped his wet wool coat before fluttering to the floor. ""Inside that folder is a complete audit of every bank account you’ve operated under aliases in Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Delaware. It includes the four hundred thousand dollars you laundered through your brother's contracting firm to hide it from your creditors.""
Rick's eyes widened to dinner plates. ""How... how did you get that?""
""Because you are an amateur playing in deep water,"" Julian replied, his voice dead of emotion. ""You took forty thousand dollars from a woman who skipped meals to keep you out of the ground, and you blew twice that on roulette tables in Atlantic City last weekend while she was packing up her life in a cardboard box.""
Julian turned slightly, gesturing toward Megan. ""Here is the new arrangement, Delaney. You will transfer sixty thousand dollars into an escrow account held under Miss Walsh’s name by noon tomorrow. Forty-four thousand for the debt she paid on your behalf, and sixteen thousand for four years of stolen interest.""
""I don't have that kind of cash liquid!"" Rick yelled, desperation cracking his voice. ""I have obligations! People will kill me if I liquidate those funds!""
Julian tilted his head, his gray eyes narrowing into razor slits. ""Then I suggest you decide whose anger you fear more, Delaney. Theirs... or mine.""
Rick looked from Julian’s stone-carved face to Megan. In her eyes, he found neither the pity nor the timid submission he had spent four years beating into her spirit. He found only the same cold, unyielding silence she had learned beneath the walnut table.
Without another word, Rick snatched the envelope from the floor, shoved his way through the shop door, and vanished into the Providence downpour, his footsteps splashing frantically down Wickenden Street.
When the bell settled, the shop was quiet again. Megan let out a breath she felt she had been holding since she was twenty-three years old.
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""He's going to run,"" she whispered.
""No,"" Julian answered, looking at her with quiet certainty. ""Rats like Delaney only run when they think they have ground left to stand on. When every escape route is closed, they strike back with whatever small venom they have left. And that is exactly when we end him.""
