Chapter 7 - The Panama Connection
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The black Lincoln Navigator sat idling at the edge of the empty motel parking lot, its exhaust curling into the cold night air like smoke.
Leo opened the rear door. Margot stepped inside, shaking the rain from her coat.
Elias Carver sat in the leather captain's chair across from her. A small amber reading light illuminated his sharp jawline and grey-ing temples. He held a glass of mineral water in one hand and a thick manila file in the other.
"You look remarkably unbroken for a woman who was slapped across the face five hours ago," Elias said, his deep voice filling the quiet cabin.
"I don't break over men like Trevor," Margot replied, sitting down across from him and placing her laptop bag firmly on her knees. "Why are you here, Elias?"
Elias set his glass in the cup holder and handed her the manila file.
"Because you mentioned the East Bank drainage numbers tonight," Elias said. "And because Trevor Whitfield owes my associates nine million dollars in short-term high-yield debt that matures in fourteen days."
Margot opened the file. Inside were real estate deeds, private wire transfers, and aerial photos of the East Bank construction site.
"He doesn't have the nine million," Margot said, scanning the documents quickly. "He spent it bribing the city zoning board, and the rest went to Briana Voss."
"I know," Elias said softly. "Which means when the project fails, Trevor goes to prison, and I lose nine million dollars. Unless someone who understands the real numbers takes control of the asset before the state freezes it."
He leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto hers with intense, unrelenting focus.
"I don't give handouts, Margot. But I do recognize leverage. What do you want?"
May you like
Margot closed the file and looked him straight in the eye.
"I want Trevor Whitfield completely ruined," she said. "And I want to finish the East Bank development under my own name."
