Chapter 3: Flight Risk
Marcus was out on bail, but he wasn't smart enough to lay low.
I got the alert on my phone just after midnight. The security grid I had reinstalled at the estate flagged a perimeter breach near the guest house where Vivian had stored some of her "belongings" before the feds locked it down.
I didn't call the police. I wanted to handle this myself.
When I stepped into the dimly lit guest house, Marcus was frantically stuffing cash, jewelry, and handfuls of silver into a duffel bag.
"Going somewhere?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
He spun around, dropping a silver candlestick. He looked feral, dark circles under his eyes, his designer clothes wrinkled and stained. "Back off, Isabella. This is my stuff."
"You mean the silver my mother picked out in Paris?" I tilted my head. "I don't think so."
He took a step toward me, trying to summon the physical intimidation he used to rely on. "You think you're untouchable now? You're just a stuck-up brat playing lawyer. Move."
I didn't flinch. I just looked at his wrist. He was still wearing it.
"Take off the watch, Marcus."
He sneered, covering it with his opposite hand. "It was a gift."
"It was a theft," I countered, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And right now, you are violating the terms of your bail by being on this property. If I press this panic button on my keys, the police will be here in four minutes. You'll go straight to county jail, and you won't get bail a second time."
Marcus swallowed hard, the fight draining out of him. He realized I held all the cards. With trembling fingers, he unclasped the gold band. He threw it onto the floor at my feet.
"Take it," he spat. "Take it all."
May you like
I picked up the heavy gold timepiece, wiping a smudge from the glass. "Grab your bag, Marcus. And if I ever see you in Dallas again, I’ll bury you so deep you won’t even see sunlight."
He scrambled past me into the night. That was the last time I ever saw him.
