THE MASSIVE BLACK DOG WAITED IN A CHICAGO ALLEY FOR A DEAD CRIME BOSS — A SINGLE MOTHER FED IT, NEVER KNOWING THE MAN WAS STILL ALIVE AND COMING HOME
Chapter 10
The confrontation came on a frozen night in December, in a warehouse on the southern docks that Vaughn had claimed as his new headquarters.
Logan walked in alone, unarmed, his hands visible at his sides. He knew that Vaughn’s men would search him, that they would find nothing, that they would laugh at the foolishness of a dead man walking into the lion’s den without a weapon.
But Logan had learned long ago that the most dangerous weapon a man could carry wasn’t a gun. It was the truth.
Vaughn Callaway was sitting behind a desk at the far end of the warehouse, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his silver hair gleaming in the dim light. He looked up when Logan entered, and for a moment, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his face.
“Logan Hail,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “I was told you were dead.”
“You were told wrong.”
Vaughn smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “So it seems. Sit down. Let’s talk.”
Logan didn’t sit. “I know everything, Vaughn. I know about the deal with Tobias. I know about my aunt. I know you’ve been planning this for years.”
“And yet you walked in here alone.” Vaughn took a sip of his whiskey. “Either you’re very brave or very stupid.”
“Neither.” Logan stepped closer. “I came to tell you that you’ve already lost.”
Vaughn’s smile faltered. “What are you talking about?”
“Rosalind.” Logan said the name carefully, watching Vaughn’s face. “You thought you were using her. But you were wrong. She knew exactly what you were doing. She played along because she had her own reasons. But she never intended to let you take the empire.”
Vaughn set down his glass. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. Check your accounts. Check your contacts. The men you thought were loyal to you have been turned. The money you thought was secure has been moved. And my aunt, the woman you thought was your puppet, is sitting in a room right now, waiting for you to make the first move so she can burn everything you’ve built to the ground.”
Vaughn’s face had gone pale. He reached for his phone, dialed a number, waited. No answer. He tried another number. Nothing.
“What did you do?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
“I didn’t do anything.” Logan smiled. “I told you. She knew what you were doing all along. She let you think you were in control. And when you made your move, she was ready.”
The truth was simpler than that. Rosalind had never been working with Vaughn. She had been using him, playing a long game that Logan had only recently uncovered. The hatred he had thought she felt for him — the reason he believed she had ordered his death — was a lie. She had been protecting him, pushing him out of the organization before Vaughn could destroy him. The ambush at Calumet had been staged — the shooters had been told to wound, not kill. The bullet that had torn through his side had been meant to miss by inches. The whole thing had been a performance, designed to make Vaughn think he had won while Rosalind quietly dismantled his operation from the inside.
The only part that had gone wrong was the river. No one had counted on him falling in. No one had expected him to nearly die.
But he had survived. And now he was standing in front of Vaughn Callaway, delivering the final blow.
Vaughn reached for the gun in his desk drawer. Logan didn’t move.
“Go ahead,” Logan said. “Shoot me. But before you do, I want you to know something. The men you had stationed outside this building are gone. The police are on their way. And the evidence tying you to every crime you’ve committed over the past ten years is already in their hands.”
Vaughn’s hand froze over the drawer. His eyes darted toward the door, toward the windows, toward the shadows that seemed to be closing in around him.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
“Yes, it is.” Logan turned and walked toward the door. “You just don’t know it yet.”
He stepped out of the warehouse and into the falling snow, and behind him, he heard the sirens begin to wail.