Chapter 5
3 months later, winter had softened into a wet, gray spring.
Keo had been discharged from St. Jude’s.
The experimental immunotherapy had been brutal on his body.
But it had worked.
The leukemia was in deep remission.
Keo remained weak and required constant monitoring and medication, but he was no longer in the hospital.
He was not living in Linda’s old apartment either.
Within 1 week of the discharge, Dominic moved Linda and Keo into the guest cottage near the western gardens of his estate.
He called it a logistical decision.
The cottage was vacant.
It was secure.
It was quiet.
Linda would no longer have to spend 2 hours every day on public transportation.
She did not argue.
She was too exhausted, and too grateful.
The relationship between Linda and Dominic settled into an uneasy, largely unspoken arrangement.
Linda still worked in the main house.
Dominic still controlled his organization.
But the line separating employer and employee had begun to blur.
Dominic changed his schedule.
He started drinking his morning espresso on the rear terrace at exactly the time Linda took Keo outside for his prescribed sunlight.
He watched the boy walk through the gardens in a bright red baseball cap, occasionally chasing butterflies.
Sometimes Keo waved.
Dominic answered with a restrained nod.
It was peaceful.
Domestic.
And in Dominic’s world, peace never felt permanent.
The Russian syndicate on the West Coast had been pressing against his supply network for 6 months.
Negotiations failed.
Warnings were ignored.
Eventually, the conflict became violent.
It happened on a Tuesday.
Linda had taken Keo to St. Jude’s for his weekly blood test.
Because of the rising threat, Dominic had forbidden her from using a taxi.
He assigned his personal driver, Bruno, to take them in an armored SUV.
Dominic remained in his study, pacing across the Persian rug while waiting for confirmation that they had returned through the estate gates.
His phone rang.
It was not Bruno.
Arthur Rossi was calling.
“Boss.”
Rossi’s voice was tense.
“We have a problem. The Russians hit the warehouse near the docks. They burned it to the ground. Casualties are high.”
Dominic went cold.
“Where is the strike team?”
“Gone. But police radio is reporting a shootout on the I-95 overpass. 2 black SUVs.”
The I-95 overpass.
The route Bruno would use returning from St. Jude’s.
Dominic ended the call.
He pulled a heavy 1911 pistol from his desk, chambered a round, and ran.
He did not wait for security.
He crossed the main hall, went through the oak doors, and climbed into his reinforced sedan.
The engine roared.
He left the estate at speed, scattering gravel behind him.
His thoughts narrowed into a single purpose.
He reached the overpass in 8 minutes.
Traffic had stopped.
Black smoke rose into the gray sky.
Dominic abandoned his sedan in the roadway and ran between motionless vehicles with his pistol drawn.
Civilians shouted.
Horns sounded.
Ahead, he saw Bruno’s SUV crushed against a concrete median.
Steam hissed from the damaged hood.
The bullet-resistant windows were heavily fractured from repeated rifle fire.
2 armed men in tactical clothing were moving toward the vehicle.
Dominic did not warn them.
He fired 3 times.
The first 2 rounds struck the rear gunman in the spine.
He collapsed immediately.
The 2nd attacker turned with his rifle raised.
Dominic continued forward and fired again.
The bullet struck the man in the throat.
He fell against the concrete barrier.
Dominic reached the SUV.
The driver’s door had jammed.
Through the broken glass, he saw Bruno slumped over the steering wheel.
Blood covered part of his head, but he was still breathing.
Dominic pulled open the rear door.
“Linda!”
She was on the floor.
Her body was curled completely over Keo.
She had shielded him with herself.
At Dominic’s voice, her head snapped upward.
Broken glass covered her clothing.
A deep cut crossed her forehead, blood running down her pale face.
“Dominic!”
He reached inside and pulled Linda from the SUV.
Then he lifted Keo out and held the frightened boy against his chest.
“Are you hit? Were you shot?”
Dominic’s hands moved over Linda’s arms, back, and neck.
“No. No. It’s just glass. Keo is fine. He’s fine.”
Linda clutched the front of Dominic’s coat.
“They came out of nowhere. They just started shooting.”
“I know. I’ve got you.”
Sirens approached in the distance.
Dominic could not remain there with 2 dead men on the roadway.
He checked Bruno again.
The driver was beginning to move.
“Bruno. Keys.”
Bruno reached weakly into his pocket and threw Dominic a spare key fob for a safe-house vehicle parked 3 blocks away.
Dominic took Linda’s hand.
“We move now.”
They left the damaged SUV, smoke, and bodies behind.
Dominic kept himself between Linda and the open roadway.
If another shot came, it would reach him first.
The safe house was a penthouse in the financial district registered through a shell company.
Cold.
Minimal.
Secure.
Dominic locked the reinforced door and activated the alarm.
Only then did he place his pistol on the marble kitchen island.
Keo sat on a leather sofa with Captain Galaxy clutched tightly in his hand.
He was not crying.
He seemed to be in shock.
Linda found a warm towel and knelt in front of him, carefully removing dust and fragments of glass from his face.
“It’s okay, baby. We’re safe. Dominic got us out. We’re safe.”
Dominic stood by the windows with his back toward them.
Pain began spreading through his left side.
May you like
The adrenaline was fading.
He looked down.
