Chapter 6
The metallic click of the pistol slide echoed sharply over the sound of the rain lashing against the corrugated tin roof. Julian lunged forward, not giving the woman time to aim. He drove his shoulder directly into her midsection, ramming her backward against the edge of the metal desk. The gun slipped from her trembling fingers, skittering across the smooth concrete floor and sliding deep beneath a massive lathe machine in the corner.
She gasped for air, clutching her ribs, but her eyes remained cold and calculating. “You’re making a massive mistake, Vance. Eleanor has the courts, the police, and the politicians in her pocket. You can’t hide this kid forever.”
“She’s not property to be traded, and neither am I,” Julian growled, his voice trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline. He turned his back on her just long enough to scoop up the burly man’s satellite phone before he could recover. With a swift stomp of his heel, Julian crushed the device against the concrete, neutralizing their communication line.
He spun around to check on Clara. The little girl had scrambled off the wooden crate and was running toward him, her small arms outstretched. Julian dropped to his knees, dropping the tough facade instantly as he scooped her up into a fierce, protective embrace. Clara buried her face in his soaked white tuxedo jacket, sobbing quietly into the sodden fabric.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m not letting anyone take you,” Julian whispered, kissing the top of her messy blond hair.
Behind them, the burly man groaned, pushing himself up from the pile of tires while holding a bruised shoulder. He glared at Julian with undisguised hatred, but seeing the determination in the man’s eyes—and knowing their element of surprise was completely shattered—he opted for self-preservation. He grabbed his partner by the arm, helping her up.
“This isn't over, Vance. The syndicate doesn’t like loose ends,” the man muttered, casting a final glance toward the exit before backing out into the rain.
May you like
Julian didn’t chase them. His priority was the child in his arms. He stood up, hoisting Clara onto his hip, and made his way toward the side exit. Every muscle ached, and his tuxedo was ruined beyond recognition, but a profound sense of relief began to wash over him. They had survived the first trap, but the real war against Eleanor’s network was only just beginning.
They reached the car without further incident. Julian strapped Clara securely into the passenger seat, wrapping her in his spare winter coat that he kept in the trunk. The heater hummed to life, blowing warm air into the chilled cabin as they pulled away from the rotting skeleton of the marina, heading north toward the safety of the state line.
