Chapter 7 - THE BETRAYAL IN THE SNOW"Put the folder down, boss," Calvin said, his voice shaking with a manic, high-pitched edge that sounded like glass sliding across tile. "Drop it in the mud where it belongs."
Victor’s hand dropped toward his hip, but Calvin cocked the pistol with a sharp, lethal snap.
"Don't even think about it, Victor," Calvin snarled, his eyes wide and bloodshot in the flickering light. "The Sterling family paid me fifty grand in advance to make sure this inspector never made it back to Madison with those files. I didn't plan on the dog finding the body before the snowplow cleared the drive, but hey—accidents happen in the winter."
"Calvin," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into that dangerous, level register that usually preceded violence. "You’ve worked for my family for twelve years. I paid your brother’s medical bills when he crashed his truck in Racine."
"Your family pays in lead and old promises," Calvin spat, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Vanessa’s father offered me a clean start in Florida. All I had to do was make sure the new girl—the little maid with the clumsy hands—took the blame for stealing the office ledgers when the state police raided the estate tomorrow morning."
Evelyn’s breath hitched. She took half a step backward, her foot sinking into the slush.
Calvin’s eyes flicked toward her for a fraction of a second. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You'll look great in a prison jumpsuit. They love girls with a background like yours in Waupun."
That fraction of a second was all it took.
Titan didn't bark. He didn't growl.
With a sound like a thunderclap breaking across the ice, the one-hundred-and-fifty-pound Cane Corso launched himself from the shadow of the SUV directly across the ten-foot gap between them.
Calvin screamed as eighty pounds of solid muscle slammed into his chest, driving him backward into the rusted iron doorframe of the pump house. The Beretta discharged into the ceiling with a deafening roar, showering sparks across the concrete floor before clattering away into the dark machinery.
Calvin went down under a mountain of black fur and snapping white teeth.
"Titan! Off!" Gabriel commanded.
The dog froze instantly, his jaws hovering two inches from Calvin’s throat, his massive weight pinning the handler’s arms to the frozen ground so hard the man’s ribs let out a sickening crunch.
Calvin lay whimpering in the snow, blood streaming from a shallow gash on his cheek where a tooth had grazed the skin.
Victor stepped forward calmly, retrieved the pistol from the floor, and kicked it out into the snowdrift. Then he pulled a pair of heavy steel zip-ties from his coat pocket and bound Calvin’s wrists behind his back with practiced efficiency.
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Gabriel walked over, picked up the spilled manila folder from the ice, and tucked it carefully inside his coat. He looked down at Calvin with an expression of cold, absolute pity.
"You should have stayed in the kennel, Calvin," Gabriel said softly. "You never did understand how to handle an animal that remembers who fed him."
