Sophie’s phone kept vibrating in Leo’s hand.
Matteo Romano did not reach for it immediately.
That told Sophie something.
A frightened man would grab for answers.
An impulsive man would start shouting.
Matteo simply stared at the glowing screen, recalculating.
Finally, he held out his hand.
Leo passed him the phone.
“Put it on speaker,” Matteo said.
Leo tapped the call open and placed the device on the steel table.
The screen remained angled away from Sophie.
A woman’s voice burst through the speaker.
“Sophie?”
Sophie closed her eyes for one brief second.
Chloe.
Same voice, almost.
A fraction rougher.
Faster.
Always as though she had entered a conversation three minutes late and intended to catch up by force.
“Sophie, say something.”
Matteo’s eyes locked onto Sophie’s.
Sophie answered calmly.
“I’m here.”
There was a sharp inhale from the phone.
Then Chloe said, “Oh, God.”
Matteo stepped closer to the table.
“Chloe Gallagher.”
Silence.
The entire warehouse seemed to contract around that silence.
When Chloe spoke again, the speed had disappeared from her voice.
“Who is this?”
“You know who.”
Another pause.
Then Chloe laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“You took Sophie.”
Nobody moved.
Matteo’s gaze remained on Sophie.
“So she tells me.”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
Leo looked toward the younger gunman.
The younger man looked at the floor.
Sophie did not feel relief.
Relief would have been premature.
Matteo leaned one hand on the table.
“Where are my bonds?”
Chloe’s breathing came faintly through the speaker.
“Let her go.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“And Sophie wasn’t your thief.”
Matteo’s voice dropped until it was almost gentle.
“Two million dollars, Chloe.”
“I know the number.”
“Then give me the answer.”
Chloe did not.
Matteo disconnected the call.
Sophie stared at him.
