Chapter 5 - His Brother Walked Into the TrapPatrick Shaw arrived Monday morning smiling.
That was the first thing Clara noticed.
Men under suspicion normally became nervous.
Patrick looked perfectly comfortable.
He walked into Declan’s office at 9:05 carrying 2 coffees and a paper bag from a bakery.
At 32, Patrick resembled Declan enough that nobody could question their relationship.
Same dark hair.
Same broad shoulders.
Same gray eyes.
But where Declan seemed carved from stone, Patrick appeared approachable.
He smiled easily.
Talked easily.
People liked him.
That made Clara distrust him immediately.
“Peace offering.”
Patrick placed one coffee on Declan’s desk.
Declan looked at it.
“What did you do?”
“Why do you assume I did something?”
“Because you brought coffee.”
Patrick laughed.
Then noticed Clara.
His smile remained.
“So this is the famous Clara.”
Clara looked up.
“We’ve met.”
“At the Christmas party.”
“You spilled bourbon on my payroll report.”
Patrick pointed at her.
“That was you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I owe you an apology.”
“You already paid for the replacement printer.”
“I did?”
“Your expense account did.”
Patrick smiled wider.
“I like her.”
Declan did not react.
Patrick sat.
Clara returned to her screen.
She could feel him studying her.
Everyone was studying her lately.
The story had spread.
Sullivan was gone.
Clara had a desk inside Declan’s office.
Nobody knew exactly what she had become.
That uncertainty gave her more power than any title could.
Patrick opened the bakery bag.
“Mom wants dinner Sunday.”
Declan looked at him.
“No.”
“You say that every week.”
“And every week you ask.”
“She thinks you’re becoming antisocial.”
“I run a criminal organization.”
Patrick shrugged.
“You can do both.”
Clara nearly smiled.
The conversation sounded normal.
That was what disturbed her.
Could this man really be stealing from his brother?
She watched without appearing to.
Patrick seemed relaxed.
No unusual tension.
No hesitation.
Then his phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
For less than a second, his expression changed.
Clara saw it.
Fear.
Patrick stood.
“I have a meeting downstairs.”
“You just arrived.”
Declan’s voice remained casual.
“Forgot about it.”
Patrick grabbed his coffee.
“Sunday.”
“No.”
“Seven.”
“Patrick.”
“Mom will call Clara if you don’t come.”
He looked toward her.
“Can I have your number?”
“No.”
Declan and Clara answered simultaneously.
Patrick laughed.
“Interesting.”
He left.
The door closed.
Clara waited 3 seconds.
“He’s scared.”
Declan nodded.
“I saw.”
“Whatever message he received changed him.”
Declan stood.
“I’ll have Bennett follow him.”
“No.”
Declan looked irritated.
“You enjoy that word.”
“Following him openly will scare whoever contacted him.”
“What do you suggest?”
Clara reached for her phone.
“I already put a tracker in his car.”
Declan stared.
“When?”
“Friday.”
“How?”
“I asked Bennett.”
Declan slowly turned toward the security camera.
“Bennett.”
His voice was deadly calm.
The intercom activated.
“Yes, boss?”
“You put a tracker in my brother’s car without telling me?”
A pause.
“Ms. Hayes said you approved it.”
Declan looked at Clara.
She lifted one shoulder.
“You said unrestricted access.”
“I am beginning to regret that sentence.”
Clara opened the tracking application.
Patrick’s car was moving south.
They watched.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Then the vehicle stopped.
Clara enlarged the map.
Industrial district.
Near the harbor.
Near Northstar’s warehouse.
Declan’s face hardened.
“Now?”
Clara asked.
“Now we follow him.”
They took Bennett’s armored SUV.
Declan sat beside Clara in the rear.
Bennett drove.
Two additional vehicles followed at a distance.
Nobody spoke.
Clara watched the tracker.
Patrick remained stationary.
They stopped 2 blocks from the warehouse.
Declan reached for the door.
Clara grabbed his sleeve.
“What?”
“We watch first.”
“He is inside the building.”
“And we don’t know with whom.”
Declan looked ready to argue.
Bennett agreed with Clara.
“She’s right.”
Declan stared at both of them.
“I dislike democracy.”
Clara looked through the windshield.
“You don’t have one.”
Twenty minutes passed.
Then a black SUV approached the warehouse.
Clara recognized it.
Diane Sullivan stepped out.
Declan’s expression became lethal.
A second person emerged.
Higgins.
Clara’s mouth opened slightly.
The nervous payroll manager.
The man Sullivan had tried to frame.
He entered the warehouse with Diane.
“Interesting.”
Clara whispered.
Declan reached for his pistol.
“Still waiting?”
“Yes.”
Another vehicle arrived.
This one surprised everyone.
A city councilman stepped out.
Clara knew him from newspapers.
Robert Mercer.
Chairman of the Port Development Committee.
Then another.
A federal customs supervisor.
Then another.
People were assembling.
Not soldiers.
Administrators.
Politicians.
Financial operators.
People who controlled paperwork.
Clara finally understood.
“This isn’t a coup.”
Declan looked at her.
“What?”
“It’s an acquisition.”
The pieces connected.
Northstar was not being built to attack Shaw Logistics.
It was being built to absorb it.
Sullivan had created financial instability.
Federal seizures damaged routes.
Money disappeared.
Political pressure increased.
Eventually, Declan would look weak.
Then Patrick could remove him without a war.
The organization would simply change ownership.
“They want your empire intact.”
Clara whispered.
“They don’t want to destroy Shaw Logistics.”
“They want to inherit it.”
Declan stared at the warehouse.
“And Patrick?”
“We still don’t know.”
Then gunfire erupted inside.
Everything changed.
Declan opened the door.
“Stay here.”
Clara caught him.
“Absolutely not.”
“Clara.”
“That is your brother.”
“Which is why you stay here.”
Another gunshot.
Declan and Bennett moved.
Clara remained in the SUV for approximately 4 seconds.
Then she swore and followed.
Bennett’s men entered through the side.
Declan kicked open a service door.
Inside, the warehouse was chaos.
Patrick was on the floor behind a forklift.
Blood covered his shirt.
Diane Sullivan held a pistol.
Higgins was screaming.
The councilman had disappeared.
Two armed men fired toward Patrick.
Declan responded.
The first man dropped his weapon.
Bennett tackled the second.
Clara moved behind a concrete pillar.
Diane saw her.
Their eyes met.
Recognition.
Hatred.
Diane raised the gun.
Clara froze.
Then Patrick slammed into Diane from the side.
The weapon discharged.
The bullet struck metal.
Declan reached them.
He knocked the gun away.
Bennett restrained Diane.
Clara ran toward Patrick.
Blood covered his side.
“Pressure.”
She dropped beside him.
“Put pressure here.”
Patrick looked at her.
“You followed me?”
“Yes.”
He laughed weakly.
“My brother likes you.”
“Please don’t die while gossiping.”
Declan knelt.
“Patrick.”
Patrick looked at him.
“I didn’t steal from you.”
“I know.”
Clara looked at Declan.
He did not know.
But he needed Patrick to hear it.
Patrick coughed.
“They used my codes.”
“Who?”
“Diane.”
Patrick winced.
“And Sullivan.”
He looked toward Clara.
“I found Northstar 2 months ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Declan demanded.
Patrick closed his eyes.
“Because they had Mom.”
Declan became still.
“What?”
“They knew her schedule.”
Patrick struggled to breathe.
“Photos.”
“House.”
“Church.”
“Everything.”
His hand caught Declan’s sleeve.
“They said if I warned you, they would kill her.”
Declan looked toward Bennett.
“Get men to my mother now.”
Bennett immediately made the call.
Clara kept pressure against Patrick’s wound.
“Why did you keep making transfers?”
“They forced me.”
Patrick whispered.
“But I changed the amounts.”
Clara frowned.
“What?”
“I changed every third transfer.”
He looked at her.
“Small differences.”
“Why?”
“So somebody would notice.”
Clara understood.
The irregularities she found were intentional.
Patrick had been leaving breadcrumbs.
“You wanted an audit.”
“Yes.”
Patrick smiled weakly.
“I knew my brother’s terrifying accountant would eventually find it.”
“I’m not terrifying.”
Patrick looked toward Declan.
“She is.”
Despite everything, Declan almost laughed.
Then Patrick’s eyes closed.
“Patrick?”
Clara touched his face.
“Patrick!”
Declan’s expression shattered.
“Stay awake.”
The ambulance arrived 7 minutes later.
Those 7 minutes felt endless.
Patrick survived the trip.
Surgery lasted 4 hours.
Declan waited in the private hospital corridor without speaking.
Clara remained beside him.
At 2:17 a.m., the surgeon emerged.
“The bullet missed the kidney.”
Declan stood.
“He lost significant blood, but he’s stable.”
For the first time all night, Declan breathed.
Clara closed her eyes.
When she opened them, Declan was looking at her.
“Come here.”
He pulled her against him.
There were no employees nearby.
No organization.
No rules.
Only a man whose brother had nearly died.
Clara wrapped her arms around him.
Declan buried his face against her hair.
“I almost killed him.”
Clara understood.
If they had confronted Patrick after finding the financial records, Declan might have believed the evidence.
“I almost killed my own brother.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Because of you.”
Clara pulled back.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Because you listened.”
He touched her cheek.
Then kissed her forehead.
It was more intimate than the kiss they had shared in the penthouse.
“Diane knows everything.”
Clara said.
Declan’s face hardened again.
“She will talk.”
“How?”
Clara asked.
Declan looked toward the hospital window.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes.”
His gaze returned.
“Yes, I do.”
That surprised him.
Clara stepped closer.
“I’m done pretending the ugly parts disappear because I don’t watch them.”
Declan studied her.
“I don’t want you becoming like me.”
“I won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I still hate what you do.”
His mouth tightened.
“But?”
“But I understand why you became this.”
She looked toward Patrick’s room.
“And understanding you does not mean becoming you.”
Declan remained silent.
Then he nodded.
“Diane will be questioned.”
“Not tortured.”
“Clara.”
“Not tortured.”
“She tried to shoot you.”
“And Patrick.”
“Yes.”
Declan stepped closer.
“And if she refuses?”
Clara held his gaze.
“Give me 20 minutes with her.”
Declan almost smiled.
“You?”
“She built a financial conspiracy.”
Clara picked up her laptop bag.
“She’s afraid of prison more than pain.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Diane Sullivan owns 14 properties through trusts, has $6 million in undeclared assets, and filed joint tax returns with her husband.”
Declan stared.
Clara continued.
“If she believes the federal government will take everything and put her in a cell for 30 years, she’ll talk.”
“You already researched her?”
“I research everyone who insults me at dinner.”
That time, Declan did laugh.
Quietly.
Exhausted.
But genuinely.
He touched the back of her neck.
“Remind me never to insult you.”
“You already have.”
“When?”
“My first week.”
“What did I say?”
“You told me my filing system was inefficient.”
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
“Then that wasn’t an insult.”
Clara rolled her eyes.
For one brief moment, they were simply 2 people standing together in a hospital corridor.
Then Bennett approached.
His expression was serious.
“Boss.”
Declan turned.
“Your mother is safe.”
Relief.
“But we have another problem.”
Bennett held out a phone.
Diane’s phone.
On the screen was a message received 9 minutes earlier.
It contained one sentence.
IF SHAW SURVIVED THE WAREHOUSE, MOVE TO PHASE TWO.
Clara read it twice.
Declan’s expression became cold.
“What is phase two?”
Bennett shook his head.
“We don’t know.”
Clara looked through the hospital windows toward the sleeping city.
Somewhere outside those walls, someone still believed they controlled the board.
They were wrong.
May you like
Clara closed her laptop.
“Then we find out before they start it.”
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