Chapter 17 - The Shadow of DallasCarlos Salazar wasn't a man who took warnings lightly.
Two weeks after my men cleared his scouts out of East Austin, Salazar decided to test my resolve on a much more personal level.
It was a Tuesday afternoon. I was at my downtown office reviewing real estate acquisitions when my secure satellite phone rang. It was Detective Vance—the honest cop who had helped me put Rebecca behind bars.
“Thomas,” Vance said, his voice tense and rushed. “You need to get to St. David’s hospital right now.”
My blood ran cold. The pen in my hand snapped in half.
“What happened?” I demanded, standing up so fast my leather chair crashed into the wall behind me.
“It’s Leo’s physical therapy appointment. A van intercepted their transport vehicle two blocks from the hospital. Your guards fought them off, but... Leo’s medical file and tracking details were accessed through a corrupted hospital database. Salazar’s men know where the kids are.”
I didn't answer. I hung up the phone instantly, grabbed my suit jacket and my Sig Sauer, and sprinted toward the private elevator.
“Marcus!” I roared into the comms as the elevator plummeted toward the underground garage. “All units code red! Salazar just made a play for my nephew. Meet me at the hospital with full tactical gear!”
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Within three minutes, my Escalade was tearing through downtown Austin traffic at ninety miles an hour, sirens blaring from unmarked escort vehicles.
Salazar had just signed his own death warrant. He thought he could use my family as leverage against my empire. He was about to find out why the name Thomas Moretti made grown men wake up in cold sweats.
