Chapter 2
“I thought that if I could save enough money by Friday, I could disappear.”
The last word almost failed.
“I would go somewhere they could not harm the baby.”
Declan felt the statement close around his chest.
Sarah intended to leave.
She planned to take his child and vanish because she did not trust him to protect her from his own people.
That realization hurt more than any bullet or blade he had endured.
“No one is leaving.”
His voice became a gravelly whisper.
“I will put a bullet into the man responsible.”
Declan leaned closer.
“Give me the name.”
Sarah looked at him.
“Who had access to the break room before you prepared the drinks?”
“I examined the security records for the previous month.”
She wiped her face.
“I compared every entry with the times I went into the break room for water.”
Profound grief filled her expression.
The name she was about to give him would injure him before it enraged him.
“It was Thomas.”
Sarah’s voice was almost inaudible.
“Thomas Callahan.”
Declan froze.
Silence became absolute.
Thomas Callahan was his underboss, his right hand, and the man who had taken a knife for him inside a Brooklyn alley 10 years earlier.
Thomas stood beside him during his father’s funeral.
He was not merely a business partner.
He was family.
“Thomas.”
Declan repeated the name.
It tasted like ash.
“He learned about the pregnancy.”
Sarah’s voice trembled.
“Approximately 2 months ago, I became severely nauseated inside the bathroom.”
She looked toward the floor.
“He heard me. I think he paid someone at the clinic to confirm it.”
Sarah’s breathing quickened.
“He has pressured you for 1 year to marry Arthur Bishop’s daughter and secure an alliance with the Chicago Syndicate.”
She looked up again.
“If you have a child with your secretary, the arrangement collapses.”
The meaning was clear.
Thomas believed he was protecting the organization by quietly eliminating the problem.
An unnatural calm settled over Declan.
It was the calm of a man deciding the exact sequence of violence he intended to inflict.
Thomas had sat inside the office, shared drinks with him, and discussed strategy while feeding poison to the woman carrying Declan’s child.
Declan removed a disposable telephone from his jacket.
“Put on your coat.”
He looked toward the storm beyond the glass.
“We are leaving now.”
He explained that he was taking her to a private medical facility in Connecticut, where his physician could remove the toxins from her bloodstream.
Sarah began gathering her belongings.
“What about Thomas?”
“Thomas is already dead.”
Declan called a secure number connected only to the small group of enforcers whose loyalty to him was beyond question.
Before the call connected, a heavy impact moved through the building.
Every monitor on Sarah’s desk went black.
The air-conditioning system stopped.
The overhead lighting failed, leaving the executive suite in complete darkness.
Lightning flashed beyond the windows.
Sarah gave a quiet cry and caught Declan’s arm.
He dropped the telephone and drew the SIG Sauer in a single motion.
Declan moved Sarah behind him.
His pulse accelerated.
The emergency generators had not activated.
This was not an ordinary power failure.
Someone had severed the electricity from inside the building.
A chime sounded at the end of the dark corridor.
The private elevator had arrived.
Its doors opened.
Heavy tactical boots stepped onto the hardwood floor.
“Thomas.”
Declan raised the weapon.
The hunt had begun.
Footsteps moved slowly along the executive corridor.
The imported carpet softened the sound, but each step seemed to strike the surrounding silence.
Declan stood between Sarah and the approaching men.
His left hand closed firmly around her wrist.
Lightning flashed over Boston, sending jagged shadows across the mahogany walls.
During that brief illumination, Declan saw them.
Thomas Callahan was leading 3 men wearing tactical equipment and carrying suppressed submachine guns.
Harrison.
Victor.
Liam.
They were soldiers who had sworn loyalty to Declan.
Thomas had purchased them.
“Declan.”
The underboss’s voice traveled through the darkness.
It did not sound hostile.
It sounded calm, reasonable, and confident in its own moral certainty.
“I know you are still here.”
Thomas advanced.
“Lobby security has been handled. There is no one else.”
His voice became almost fraternal.
“Come out, brother. We need to discuss the future of the family.”
Declan said nothing.
He pulled Sarah into a crouch and navigated the office from memory.
He knew every measurement, corner, and obstruction. He had designed the floor for an attack exactly like this.
“I know she is with you.”
Thomas came closer.
“I did not want this to become violent, Deck.”
His tone remained casual.
“I gave her a peaceful way out.”
Sarah pressed one hand over her mouth to contain a sob.
“It would have appeared to be an illness,” Thomas continued. “A tragic miscarriage.”
His voice remained horribly practical.
“You would have grieved. We would have shared a drink.”
Thomas paused.
“Then you would have married Arthur Bishop’s daughter in Chicago. We would control every major Midwest transit route.”
His footsteps moved nearer.
“No wars. No unnecessary blood.”
Sarah shook against Declan.
The description of slow poisoning as a peaceful solution made his blood feel colder.
“Move behind the main server support.”
He whispered directly against her ear.
The reinforced steel column stood inside the center of the suite. Military-grade Kevlar lined the walls around it.
“Do not move until I say your name.”
Sarah nodded.
She moved behind the pillar, both arms wrapped around her stomach, and lowered herself to the floor.
Declan advanced silently and positioned himself behind the heavy oak desk.
“You are thinking emotionally.”
Thomas’s patience had begun to fail.
“You are becoming weak.”
He raised his voice.
“She is a secretary.”
His contempt moved through the darkness.
“You are prepared to destroy a billion-dollar organization for an employee and an illegitimate child.”
Declan stood.
He did not require light.
He knew the angles.
He fired twice.
The suppressed reports were quiet.
The impact of a body striking the floor was not.
Victor fell with a bullet between his eyes.
“Fire.”
Thomas moved behind the filing cabinets.
The office erupted.
Liam and Harrison opened fire.
Muzzle flashes illuminated the room in violent pulses.
May you like
Bullets destroyed the artwork and glass partitions.
Shards rained across the carpet.
