Chapter 5 - The Accountant Found a Thief at Victor’s Own TableAt 7:12 the next morning, Khloe Bennett walked into Victor Rossi’s war room wearing one of his white shirts and carrying a cup of coffee she had forgotten to drink.
Nobody spoke.
Seven men sat around the long walnut table.
Javier stood near the windows.
Victor occupied the chair at the head.
Every face turned toward her.
Khloe stopped.
Twenty-four hours earlier, that kind of attention would have made her want to disappear.
Now she simply looked back.
“Which one of you handles commercial shipping?”
The silence changed.
Victor leaned back in his chair.
His expression revealed nothing.
A broad man in his early fifties slowly lifted one hand.
“Depends what you mean by handles.”
“Money.”
Khloe crossed the room.
“The legitimate companies. Warehouses. Freight contracts. Port fees. Customs brokers.”
The man glanced at Victor.
Victor gave him no rescue.
“Me,” he finally said.
“Name?”
His mouth tightened.
“Peter Mancini.”
Khloe placed a folder in front of him.
“Then either you’re stealing from Victor, or someone working directly under you is.”
Every man at the table became still.
Peter stared at her.
Then laughed.
It was the wrong reaction.
Khloe knew immediately.
Not because she understood criminals.
Because she understood executives.
She had spent years sitting across from CFOs who laughed when auditors got too close to something they did not want examined.
The laugh was rarely amusement.
It was a reflex.
A shield.
“You’ve been here what?” Peter asked. “A day?”
“Thirty-two hours.”
“And now you understand our businesses?”
“No.”
Khloe took a sip of coffee.
“I understand addition.”
Javier almost smiled.
Peter did not.
Khloe opened the folder.
“Rossi Maritime paid $4.8 million in consulting fees over the last eighteen months to three companies.”
She pushed documents across the table.
“Brighton Advisory.”
Another sheet.
“Lakeview Commercial Strategies.”
Another.
“Midwest Transportation Compliance.”
Peter shrugged.
“Consultants.”
“They have the same registered agent.”
“So?”
“The registered agent is a seventy-eight-year-old woman living in assisted care outside Milwaukee.”
Nobody moved.
“She also supposedly owns a cybersecurity company, a restaurant-equipment importer, and a marine-engineering firm.”
Khloe looked directly at Peter.
“Busy woman.”
A few men shifted in their chairs.
Victor remained motionless.
Khloe continued.
“The money leaves Victor’s companies, enters those entities, gets divided into smaller transfers, then returns through a holding company in Nevada.”
Peter’s face lost a little color.
“Whose holding company?” Victor asked.
Khloe turned toward him.
“Still tracing it.”
Peter exhaled.
Too quickly.
Relief.
Khloe noticed.
So did Victor.
“But,” she continued, “somebody got careless.”
Peter’s relief vanished.
“One payment went directly from Lakeview Commercial Strategies to a private account at First Chicago.”
She removed one final page.
“Beneficiary: Danielle Mancini.”
Peter stood.
The chair scraped violently across the floor.
Victor did not move.
“Sit down.”
Peter looked at him.
“Boss, my daughter has nothing to do with—”
“Sit.”
The single word carried more threat than shouting could have.
Peter lowered himself.
Khloe looked at the other men.
Nobody was laughing anymore.
“Danielle Mancini received $312,000 over nine months.”
Khloe folded her arms.
“She’s twenty-four. She works as a kindergarten teacher.”
Peter’s jaw flexed.
“You went through my family?”
“You went through Victor’s money.”
“That doesn’t give you the right—”
Khloe slammed her palm against the table.
The sound surprised everyone.
Including herself.
“People burned my home because I found their numbers.”
Her voice remained controlled.
“My cat died in that fire. Men followed me into a hotel. A sniper put a laser on my head. I killed someone yesterday because he came through a door to murder me.”
She leaned toward Peter.
“So I’m having a difficult week, Peter. Forgive me if I’m not worried about hurting your feelings.”
Silence.
Victor watched her.
Something dark and proud moved behind his eyes.
Peter looked toward him.
“Victor.”
First name.
Not boss.
Interesting.
Khloe filed that away.
“We’ve known each other twenty years.”
Victor finally leaned forward.
“That’s why you’re still breathing.”
Peter swallowed.
“Explain the money.”
“It wasn’t theft.”
“What was it?”
Peter hesitated.
That was enough.
Javier moved away from the window.
Peter saw him.
His face tightened.
“Insurance.”
Victor’s eyes went cold.
“Against what?”
Peter looked around the room.
Then at Khloe.
“You.”
Khloe frowned.
Peter pointed at her.
“This.”
Victor stood.
Peter continued quickly.
“The old families are nervous. Falcone is wounded. Reyes is moving north. Everybody’s choosing sides.”
“So you stole from me.”
“I moved money.”
“To your daughter.”
“To protect her!”
Peter slammed both hands on the table.
“If this city goes to war, I wanted something outside the system. Something nobody could freeze.”
Victor walked slowly toward him.
“You believed I would lose.”
Peter’s breathing changed.
“No.”
“You prepared for it.”
“I prepared for anything.”
Victor stopped beside him.
For a moment, Khloe thought he would kill Peter.
She saw it in the faces around the table.
They expected it.
Peter expected it.
Instead, Victor looked at Khloe.
“Is he the shipping leak?”
She considered the question.
“No.”
Peter blinked.
Khloe pulled another sheet from the folder.
“His theft is too small.”
Peter almost looked insulted.
Khloe ignored him.
“The shipping leak has access to vessel schedules before they’re entered into the company system.”
Javier frowned.
“Meaning?”
“Someone knows where Victor’s cargo will be before Victor’s accounting department knows.”
She looked around the table.
“That requires operational access.”
Several faces changed.
Khloe noticed every one.
Victor did too.
“Who has that access?” she asked.
Nobody answered.
Victor did.
“Three people.”
He pointed.
“Javier.”
Javier did not react.
“Me.”
Victor’s eyes moved toward the far end of the table.
“And my cousin Luca.”
Khloe followed his gaze.
The chair was empty.
“Where is Luca?”
Victor’s phone rang.
Nobody moved.
He looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Rossi.”
A man spoke.
Victor’s expression did not change.
But Khloe saw his fingers tighten around the phone.
“Put him on.”
A pause.
Then another voice.
Young.
Strained.
“Victor?”
Victor went completely still.
“Luca.”
“I need you to listen.”
“Where are you?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
Khloe looked at Javier.
Javier was already signaling men toward the doors.
Victor’s voice dropped.
“Everyone has a choice.”
“They have my mother.”
Victor’s eyes closed for half a second.
Luca continued.
“They took her three weeks ago. I thought I could fix it. I gave them schedules. Nothing else. I swear.”
“Who?”
“The Reyes people.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Luca.”
“They said if I talked—”
A sound interrupted him.
A gunshot.
Then silence.
Victor stared at the phone.
“Luca?”
Nothing.
“Luca!”
A different voice came through.
Calm.
Male.
Slight accent.
“Mr. Rossi.”
Victor’s entire body became rigid.
Khloe recognized the voice of someone accustomed to power.
“You destroyed property belonging to my organization,” the man said.
Victor said nothing.
“You killed my people.”
Still nothing.
“You interfered in business that did not concern you.”
Victor finally spoke.
“You brought military weapons into my city.”
A soft laugh.
“Your city.”
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate.
“My city.”
The man chuckled again.
“I admire confidence.”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing from you.”
A pause.
“We want the accountant.”
Every man in the room looked at Khloe.
Victor did not.
“No.”
“You should consider the offer.”
“I already did.”
Victor’s voice became almost gentle.
“No.”
“She has information that belongs to us.”
“She belongs to herself.”
Khloe’s breath caught.
The words were different from what he had told her in the safe house.
You belong to me until this is finished.
Now, in front of his captains, Victor had corrected himself.
She belongs to herself.
“And she chose to stand beside me,” he continued.
The voice became colder.
“Then she will die beside you.”
Victor ended the call.
Nobody spoke.
Javier moved first.
“Trace?”
One of the security men shook his head.
“Too short.”
Victor looked around the table.
“Meeting over.”
The captains began leaving.
Peter remained seated.
Victor looked at him.
“You’re done.”
Peter’s face collapsed.
“Victor—”
“You keep your life.”
Peter stared.
“You keep your daughter.”
Victor leaned down.
“You return every dollar. You surrender every account, every password, every key.”
His voice hardened.
“And then you disappear.”
“After twenty years?”
“After twenty years, you should have trusted me enough to tell me you were afraid.”
Peter looked away.
Victor straightened.
“Javier.”
Javier escorted Peter from the room.
Khloe remained.
When the doors closed, Victor walked toward the windows.
Chicago stretched beneath gray morning clouds.
Khloe joined him.
“Luca may still be alive.”
Victor said nothing.
“You didn’t hear a body fall.”
“Khloe.”
“The gunshot could have been staged.”
He looked at her.
She continued.
“They wanted an emotional response.”
“You think I’m emotional?”
“I think you love your cousin.”
His jaw tightened.
There it was.
A wound.
Victor could hide anger.
He could hide fear.
He could not completely hide family.
Khloe touched his hand.
His fingers closed around hers.
“They took his mother,” she said.
“My aunt.”
“Then Luca wasn’t selling you.”
“He was feeding them information.”
“To keep his mother alive.”
Victor pulled away.
“In my world, intentions don’t matter.”
Khloe remembered those words.
He had said them to her in the burner apartment.
“Actions do,” she finished.
Victor looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Then judge his final action.”
“What final action?”
“He called you.”
Victor became still.
“He knew they could kill him for it.”
Khloe stepped closer.
“He called anyway.”
Victor looked toward the city.
Something changed.
Not forgiveness.
Possibility.
“Find him,” Khloe said.
Victor looked at her.
“I’m an accountant.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I find things people hide.”
Three hours later, Khloe found Luca Rossi.
Not his body.
His money.
And money, she had learned, usually arrived before men.
She traced an emergency transfer from a Rossi-controlled account.
Forty thousand dollars.
Cash withdrawal authorization.
Luca had initiated it six hours earlier.
The authorization originated from a cellular tower near Cicero.
Then another payment.
Gas station.
Then pharmacy.
Then motel.
Khloe circled the address.
“Here.”
Victor looked over her shoulder.
“The Lakeside Motor Lodge.”
Javier loaded his weapon.
“Could be bait.”
“Everything is bait now,” Victor said.
Khloe stood.
Victor immediately shook his head.
“No.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“You need me.”
“I need you alive.”
“And I need you to stop deciding those are mutually exclusive.”
Javier looked away.
Smart man.
Victor stepped closer.
“You have never cleared a building.”
“No.”
“You’ve never been in a tactical operation.”
“No.”
“You fired a revolver with your eyes closed.”
Khloe’s mouth tightened.
“I still hit him.”
Javier coughed.
Victor shot him a look.
Javier became fascinated by the wall.
Khloe folded her arms.
“I stay in the armored car.”
Victor stared at her.
“With Javier.”
Javier frowned.
“Why am I suddenly babysitting?”
“Because you like me.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“You brought me breakfast.”
“That was an order.”
“You remembered I don’t like mustard.”
Javier looked betrayed.
Victor almost smiled.
Almost.
“Fine,” Victor said.
Khloe blinked.
“That was easier than expected.”
“Because you’re not leaving the vehicle.”
They reached the motel forty minutes later.
Victor entered with four men.
Khloe remained in the armored SUV beside Javier.
Ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
Khloe watched the second-floor walkway.
Room 214.
Curtains closed.
No movement.
Her stomach tightened.
Then gunfire erupted.
Javier reached for the door.
“Stay.”
He exited.
Khloe immediately hated the empty car.
More shots.
Someone ran across the parking lot.
Then another figure appeared.
Young man.
Blood across his shirt.
Luca.
He stumbled from the stairwell.
Khloe unlocked the door.
“Luca!”
He looked toward her.
A gunman appeared behind him.
Khloe saw the weapon.
Saw Luca turn.
Saw death arriving.
She did not think.
She slammed her palm against the horn.
The gunman flinched toward the sound.
Luca dropped.
A shot cracked.
The rear windshield starred.
Then Victor emerged.
He fired twice.
The gunman collapsed.
Victor reached Luca.
Khloe was already outside.
Victor turned.
His face became furious.
“I told you—”
“He’s bleeding!”
That ended the argument.
They carried Luca into the SUV.
He had been shot through the shoulder.
Alive.
Barely.
Victor pressed gauze against the wound.
Luca opened his eyes.
“Mother.”
“We’ll get her.”
“No.”
Luca grabbed Victor’s wrist.
“You don’t understand.”
“What?”
“They moved her.”
“Where?”
Luca looked at Khloe.
“They knew you’d find the motel.”
Khloe felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
Luca coughed.
Blood touched his lips.
“They wanted you out of the estate.”
Victor’s phone rang.
Javier answered his.
Both men froze.
Victor looked at Khloe.
“Estate security.”
His voice changed.
“Multiple vehicles approaching the north gate.”
Khloe understood.
The motel had never been the target.
Luca had never been the target.
She was.
Victor grabbed the radio.
“All units return home.”
The driver accelerated.
Khloe looked through the rear window as the motel disappeared.
The city blurred around them.
Victor took her hand.
This time there was no debate about whether she belonged in his world.
The war had arrived at his front door.
May you like
And Khloe Bennett was no longer hiding behind Victor Rossi.
She was going home beside him.
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