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MY FOUR-YEAR-OLD SON SAT BESIDE A DYING CRIME BOSS—THEN HE WHISPERED THE NAME HIS MOST TRUSTED MAN FEARED IN THAT LOCKED ROOM / Chapter 8 / 8

Chapter 8 - SUNRISE OVER CHICAGO

The morning sun broke over the Chicago skyline, painting Lake Michigan in brilliant shades of gold, amber, and deep crimson.

The heavy iron gates of the Hale estate swung open smoothly, humming softly as our modest sedan rolled down the long driveway. In the backseat, Owen was fast asleep against the plush upholstery, still clutching his plastic T-Rex toy in one hand, completely oblivious to the fact that our lives had changed forever.

On the front seat beside me sat a heavy leather briefcase.

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The rain tapped a frantic rhythm against the glass of Marissa’s cramped, dimly lit kitchen, but the storm outside was nothing compared to the tempest raging inside Adrian Whitmore’s mind. Standing just beyond the rotting wooden doorframe of her apartment, hidden by the heavy shadows of the crumbling stairwell, the millionaire tried to steady his breathing. His expensive wool coat was soaked through, but he didn’t care. His eyes were entirely fixed on the scene unfolding a few feet away.

The rain tapped a frantic rhythm against the glass of Marissa’s cramped,...

My hand froze inches from the cold steel of the Sig Sauer P226. Beneath the amber glow of the bedside lamp, the source of the warmth against my side wasn't an assassin, an operative from a rival syndicate, or a traitorous lieutenant.

My hand froze inches from the cold steel of the Sig Sauer P226. Beneath...

The silence in the master bedroom stretched so tight I could hear the slow, heavy drip of my own pulse in my ears. Dominic Rossi’s dark eyes locked onto mine, burning with a feverish intensity that should have sent me running back down the hallway and out into the rain

The silence in the master bedroom stretched so tight I could hear the sl...

Inside was the wire transfer confirmation, our new identification papers, and a handwritten note on thick, cream-colored cardstock bearing Vincent Hale’s personal seal.

I smiled, folding the note and tucking it safely into my purse. I pressed my foot gently on the accelerator, watching the massive iron gates recede in our rear-view mirror as we drove out into the bright, beautiful morning light, leaving the ghosts of the Chicago underworld far behind us for good.

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