Chapter 6 - Confronting the Predator
Marcus Reyes took a drag from his cigarette, squinting at Damian. He looked at the tall, impeccably groomed man in a heavy wool overcoat and let out a dry laugh. "Well, look at this. The little housekeeper brought her sugar daddy. I told you cash only, sweetheart. I don't take corporate checks."
"The cash is here," Damian said, holding up the envelope. "Three thousand. Two hundred more than you asked for."
Marcus smiled, revealing crooked, nicotine-stained teeth. "Good girl. Put it on the hood of my car. The box is in my trunk."
"Before I give you this," Damian said, stepping forward with measured, predatory grace, "I want to verify the serial numbers. Vance Therapeutics Lot number 409-Delta."
Marcus’s smile vanished instantly. His hand twitched toward the pocket of his leather coat. "Who the hell are you?"
"I’m the man whose name is stamped on the crates you broke into on Tuesday night," Damian said, his voice dropping into an icy register that made the hair on Maya's arms stand up. "I'm the man whose sister died in an underfunded clinic while middlemen like you diverted high-grade machinery to private buyers."
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"You're Vance," Marcus hissed, backing up half a step, his fingers wrapping around the handle of a concealed weapon. "You set me up. You brought the cops?"
"I don't need the police to ruin you, Reyes," Damian said calmly, without taking his hands out of his coat pockets. "Two blocks away, three city inspectors and state pharmaceutical auditors are currently padlocking your storage locker on 14th Street. Your buyer in Indiana has already flipped on you to avoid federal wire-fraud charges. You have no inventory left. You have no business. You have nothing."
