Chapter 9
The sound of heavy tactical boots advancing down the hallway was masked momentarily by the rolling thunder outside, but Evelyn didn't hesitate. She swung the iron fireplace poker in a wide, vicious arc just as a masked figure rounded the corner into the living room. The heavy iron struck the intruder squarely across the shoulder guard, sending the man stumbling backward against the wall with a grunt of surprise.
"Go! Now!" Evelyn screamed, throwing her weight into a second swing.
Marcus grabbed Leo by the back of his light blue pajamas, hauling the terrified boy up and sprinting toward the rear cellar door hidden beneath the stairwell. He threw the heavy wooden latch, revealing a steep, pitch-black flight of concrete steps leading down into the damp, subterranean earth of the brownstone's foundation.
"Hold onto my belt, Leo, and don't look back," Marcus ordered, pulling the boy down the stairs just as a muffled gunshot echoed through the front hallway, the bullet embedding itself in the doorframe inches from where Evelyn stood.
Down in the suffocating darkness of the basement, the smell of damp earth and old coal dust filled the air. Marcus hauled open the heavy metal coal chute at the back of the foundation, letting a wash of cold rain and amber alleyway light flood the cellar. He boosted Leo through the narrow opening first, tumbling him out into the muddy alleyway, then scrambled out after him just as heavy footsteps reached the top of the basement stairs inside the house.
The rain poured down in sheets, soaking them to the bone as they hit the muddy ground behind the closed brick bakery. Marcus pulled Leo to his feet, shielding the boy’s body with his own as they sprinted toward a sleek, black unmarked SUV idling in the shadows of the loading dock.
The rear door clicked open automatically. Marcus shoved Leo inside, diving in right behind him as the vehicle’s tires tore into the slick pavement, peeling out of the alley just as two armed men burst out the back door of the brownstone behind them.
Inside the warm, leather-lined interior of the SUV, Leo curled into a shivering ball on the seat, staring blankly at the tinted windows. His face was pale, his lips blue with cold, and his eyes held the haunted, hollow look of a child who had grown up a lifetime in a single night.
May you like
Marcus slammed his hand against the glass partition separating the cabin from the driver, his face dark with adrenaline and rage.
"Get us to the federal safehouse in Georgetown," Marcus ordered the driver. "And patch me through to the US Attorney's office. Tell them we have the hardware, and the mother just signed her own death warrant."
