Chapter 10 - Beneath the Riverwalk
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A slow, lethal smile curved the corner of Roman Vane’s mouth as he stared down at the blueprint where Tessa’s finger rested.
"The 1906 coal freight tunnels," Roman murmured, leaning closer until his shoulder brushed hers over the mahogany desk. "Forty feet below the river level. Sealed off by the city after the 1992 flood—except the flood bulkhead gate at Kinzie Street runs right through my family’s riverboat casino basement."
"My father spent twenty years mapping every subterranean utility and freight tunnel in the Loop," Tessa said, her pulse quickening as she traced the red ink line her dad had drawn across the Wacker Drive foundation grid. "Look at his measurement: if you take a diamond-blade hydraulic concrete saw into Section 14 of the old freight tunnel at the river bend, eight inches of brick and poor-grade cement is all that separates the tunnel wall from the exact void where Victor and Arthur Sterling dropped those three steel drums and AUSA Miller’s body!"
Matteo let out a low whistle. "If we cut those drums and Miller’s body out of the side of the pier before dawn—complete with Arthur Sterling’s personal company serial tags and Victor’s cufflink that Frank Cole noted fell into the wet concrete on the radar scan—neither the Commission nor the Feds can call it a doctored photo!"
"Wait," Roman said, checking his watch: 2:10 AM. "Victor’s sit-down with the captains at the Aurelia Club is at noon tomorrow. And at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning—one hour before the sit-down—the Illinois Gaming Commission holds its final public inspection walkthrough at the Wacker Drive lobby with Arthur Sterling and the news cameras."
Tessa’s eyes met Roman’s. In the warm glow of the library fire, she could see the ruthless, brilliant strategist who had built an empire before he turned thirty-five.
"If you cut into the side of Caisson 4 tonight to pull the drums out," Tessa warned quietly, her engineering professor father’s lessons ringing clearly in her mind, "what happens to the structural load on the eastern corner of Arthur Sterling’s half-built tower above it?"
"The hollow void collapses four inches," Roman said silkily, "cracking the main glass atrium beams right Down the center of the lobby floor at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning in front of the Gaming Commission and six live television crews—destroying Sterling’s two-billion-dollar casino bid on live TV sixty minutes before I drop the carfentanil drums onto the table in front of Victor at noon."
"I'm coming with you into the tunnel," Tessa said immediately, straightening her spine.
Roman’s expression hardened instantly into granite. "Like hell you are. You’re staying right here behind twelve armed guards with your sister."
"Roman, listen to me!" Tessa stepped directly in front of him as he reached for his tactical vest, laying her uninjured left hand flat against the center of his chest. "The 1906 freight tunnel grid beneath Wacker Drive is an unmarked honeycomb of fifty intersecting brick shafts—and half of them have weak flood bulkheads holding back the Chicago River! None of your men know how to read my father’s structural shorthand on these hand-drawn maps, and if your cutter hits the load-bearing rebar cage six inches too far to the left, the river wall breaches and floods the whole tunnel in ninety seconds! You need me down there to mark the exact eight-inch cut!"
Roman looked down at her small hand resting over his heart, then up into her fierce, stubborn hazel eyes.
"Eight hours ago you were terrified of Mr. Henderson firing you over a dropped plate of oysters," Roman murmured, his voice dropping low and rough as his large hand came up to cover hers against his chest. "Now you’re telling the head of the Chicago Outfit how to run a subterranean demolition op."
"Eight hours ago, a bully threatened my little sister, and you stood up for me when nobody else in that room cared if I lived or died," Tessa whispered, her breath hitching as his thumb brushed the bare skin of her wrist. "And I’m not letting you drown under the Chicago River because your men can't read my dad’s handwriting."
For three long heartbeats, Roman stared down at her, the heat between them suddenly ten times more dangerous than the gunfire at the hospital.
May you like
Slowly, he lifted her uninjured left hand to his mouth and pressed a hot, lingering kiss to the center of her palm—right over her lifeline—his gunmetal eyes never leaving hers.
"You stay ten feet behind Matteo and me in the tunnel," Roman commanded huskily. "The second you mark the chalk line on the brick, you walk straight back to the casino bulkhead. If you argue with me down there, I’ll sling you over my shoulder and carry you back myself."
