Chapter 6 - The Cliffside ChaseThe cold night air burned Marcus’s lungs like fire as his fingers clawed desperately into the damp dirt and crumbling rock of the cliffside trail. Every muscle in his arms burned, carrying not only his own weight but holding Leo tightly against his chest with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.
Above them, the sweeping beam of a high-powered tactical flashlight cut through the darkness, illuminating the jagged rocks just inches above their heads.
"They went down the old maintenance path! Cut them off at the boathouse!" a harsh voice shouted from above.
Marcus scrambled behind a massive outcropping of granite, pulling Leo down into the dense brush of wild ferns. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He looked down at his son. Leo’s face was pale, shivering violently from the freezing sea spray, but the boy didn't make a single sound. He pressed his small face into his father’s jacket, biting his lip to keep from crying.
I have to get him out of here, Marcus thought, his mind racing through options. The local police couldn't be trusted—Elena’s syndicate had deep tentacles inside the municipal department. But his brother, Inspector Thomas Vance, had federal backup stationed twenty miles away at the downtown precinct.
Marcus pulled his encrypted satellite phone from his jacket pocket. His hands shook so badly he nearly dropped it. He pressed the speed dial for Thomas, holding his breath as the line rang.
Come on, pick up, pick up...
"Vance," Thomas’s voice crackled through the earpiece, sharp and urgent. "Marcus? What’s going on? It’s two in the morning."
"Tom, they're here," Marcus whispered fiercely, keeping his voice down to a low hiss. "Elena’s cleaners. They’re at the Malibu estate. They broke into the west wing. They know about Sarah—it wasn't an accident, Tom, Elena murdered her! They're hunting us down right now!"
A heavy silence hung on the line for a fraction of a second before Thomas’s tone turned deadly cold. "Listen to me very carefully, Marcus. Do not go toward the main road. They have the perimeter blocked. Head down toward the smugglers' cove at the base of the cliff. I'm dispatching a federal tactical unit by boat right now. Hold out for ten minutes."
"Ten minutes?" Marcus glanced up through the branches, spotting two dark silhouettes moving stealthily along the cliff path just thirty feet above them. "I don't think we have ten minutes."
Before Thomas could reply, a heavy boot snapped a dry branch directly above their hiding spot.
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"I see movement down there!" a rough voice yelled.
Marcus didn't wait. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, grabbed Leo’s hand, and bolted straight down the steep, treacherous goat trail leading toward the crashing waves of the hidden cove.
