Chapter 4 - The Price of Loyalty
Desmond’s heavy torso crashed into Sadie, knocking her hard to the stone floor just as a high-velocity sniper round tore through the air. The bullet shattered the headrest of his empty wheelchair, sending plastic and foam spraying across the room.
Desmond groaned, his face contorted in pain. Without the use of his legs, he was dead weight on top of her, his lower body completely unresponsive.
"Desmond! Are you hit?" Sadie gasped, scrambling out from under him while keeping her head low.
"No," he growled, his hands digging into the stone floor as he dragged himself toward the cover of a massive oak wine rack. "But my chair is ruined. The battery pack is shot."
Another bullet struck the floor inches from Sadie's boot, spraying concrete chips. The sniper was using a thermal scope; the smoke from the explosion wasn't hiding them anymore.
"We have to move!" Sadie cried. She looked at Desmond, lying on his stomach, his useless legs dragging behind him. The sight of the proud, terrifying mafia boss reduced to crawling on the floor pierced her heart more than any bullet could.
She didn't hesitate. Sadie grabbed Desmond by his tactical vest, hauling his massive frame up with a strength she didn't know she possessed. She draped his heavy arm over her shoulders.
"What are you doing?" he hissed. "Leave me. Take the gun and run."
"Shut up and use your arms!" Sadie yelled, her legs shaking under his immense weight.
Together, a bizarre, limping tandem, they staggered down the parallel corridor toward the estate’s underground garage. Behind them, the sniper’s rhythmic, calculated footsteps echoed closer and closer.
They burst into the private garage. It was filled with Desmond's collection of pristine, blacked-out luxury vehicles—but all of their tires had been slashed. Frank had been thorough.
Except for one vehicle.
Parked in the far corner, looking completely ridiculous next to the bulletproof SUVs, was Sadie's twelve-year-old Honda Civic. Frank’s men hadn't bothered to touch it; they probably thought it was a pile of scrap metal.
"Key!" Sadie shouted, tossing Desmond into the passenger seat. He collapsed into the worn fabric, his face pale from exhaustion and nerve pain.
Sadie jumped into the driver's seat, jammed the cracked key into the ignition, and turned it.
Whir... whir... click.
The engine groaned but didn't catch.
"Come on, you piece of garbage," Sadie prayed, slamming her hand against the dashboard.
The garage doors opened behind them. The sniper emerged from the shadows, raising a sleek black rifle, his scope leveling directly at Sadie’s head through the windshield.
Whir... VRRRRROOOOM.
The Honda's engine roared to life with a cloud of blue exhaust smoke. Sadie slammed the car into reverse, stamping her foot onto the accelerator. The little car shrieked, its tires spinning as it launched backward through the brick wall of the garage doors, smashing out into the rainy, pre-dawn Chicago air.
The sniper fired twice, the bullets punching holes through the hood, but the car kept moving. Sadie shifted into drive, the transmission grinding horribly, and rocketed down the winding driveway of Gallagher Hill, leaving the flaming ruins of the estate behind them.
Desmond leaned his head back against the headrest, his breathing shallow. He looked at the girl next to him—her uniform torn, her hair wild, her hands gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline.
"Where are we going?" he asked quietly.
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"Somewhere they’ll never look for a multi-millionaire mafia boss," Sadie said, turning the car onto the highway as the sun began to break over Lake Michigan.
THE TWIST HOOK: As she checked her rearview mirror, she noticed a black sedan trailing them from a distance. But that wasn't the problem. She looked down at the dashboard. The oil light was flashing red, and a thick column of black smoke was beginning to rise from the bullet holes in the hood. They were going to stall out in less than five minutes, and they were right in the middle of territory controlled by Desmond's brother.
