Chapter 9 - THE SHOT THROUGH THE WINDOW
Vincent hit the floor with me beneath him.
Glass exploded across the room.
Marco returned fire through the broken window.
My mother screamed.
Security alarms filled the estate.
Then silence.
Vincent lifted his head.
“You hit?”
“No.”
He checked my face.
Hands.
Shoulders.
Again.
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“You’re bleeding.”
A thin line ran along his temple.
Glass.
Not bullet.
I touched it without thinking.
He went still.
So did I.
Our faces were inches apart.
My heart did something unprofessional.
Then Marco shouted,
“Boss.”
We separated.
“Shooter gone.”
Vincent stood.
“Mother?”
My mother was shaken but unhurt.
She still held the metal key.
Vincent took it.
“From now on, this stays with me.”
She nodded.
No argument.
That frightened me more than gunfire.
The estate went into lockdown.
No one entered.
No one left.
At midnight, I found Vincent alone in the kitchen.
Eating another chicken sandwich.
I stopped.
“You have got to be kidding.”
He looked up.
“What?”
“You eat these during every crisis?”
“They’re efficient.”
I laughed.
He handed me half.
This was how we had started.
Under a table.
Sandwich between us.
Now there were assassins and criminal trusts.
Progress?
I sat beside him.
“Why aren’t you married?”
He almost choked.
“What?”
“Your mother apparently tried.”
“Repeatedly.”
“So?”
He looked at the sandwich.
“Women usually want one of three things.”
“Money, power, or danger?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you want?”
He was quiet.
Then,
“Peace.”
That surprised me.
“You’re in the wrong profession.”
“I know.”
I smiled.
Then he asked,
“Why aren’t you married?”
“My mother tried to introduce me to a widower with three children and two divorces.”
“Fair.”
“Also, I hate being managed.”
“I noticed.”
“And every man my mother liked treated marriage like a merger.”
His expression changed.
“Which is ironic.”
“Painfully.”
Silence settled.
Not uncomfortable.
Then he said,
“If we weren’t being hunted…”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Coward.”
His eyebrow rose.
“No one calls me that.”
“I just did.”
He turned toward me.
“If we weren’t being hunted, I would ask you to dinner.”
My heart skipped.
“You’re doing badly already.”
“Why?”
“We’ve shared two sandwiches.”
“That counts.”
“No.”
He leaned closer.
“Then I’d ask properly.”
I swallowed.
“And I might say yes.”
His eyes darkened.
The room became very quiet.
Then Marco entered.
“Boss.”
I closed my eyes.
“Marco, timing.”
He looked confused.
Vincent almost smiled.
“What?”
“We cracked part of the Bell server map.”
He placed a tablet down.
The metal key contained coordinates.
An old property near Lake Michigan.
A private facility.
Vincent stared.
“That was my father’s.”
My mother nodded.
“Raffaele moved the server there.”
“Why?”
“To hide it from Samuel.”
Marco enlarged the map.
“One active access recorded six hours ago.”
My stomach dropped.
“Daniel?”
“Maybe.”
“From where?”
Marco looked at me.
“Your mother’s house.”
We all turned.
My mother went white.
“That’s impossible.”
“Someone used your home network.”
My chest tightened.
“Who has access?”
She looked at me.
Then whispered,
“Patricia.”
The friend who introduced Caldwell.
Of course.
My mother had trusted her for twenty years.
Vincent’s face hardened.
“Where is she now?”
My mother checked her phone.
A message.
Patricia:
SO SORRY, MARGARET.
Below it:
HE PROMISED NOT TO HURT EVELYN.
Then another message arrived.
A photograph.
Patricia bound to a chair.
Daniel beside her.
Caption:
SHE WAS USEFUL UNTIL SHE WASN’T.
And beneath that:
May you like
BRING VINCENT AND EVELYN TO HOLDING C.
OR SHE DIES.
