Chapter 4 - The Midnight Break-In“Get under the desk,” I commanded in an urgent whisper, grabbing Laurel’s arm and pulling her up.
“What about Dash?” she panicked, reaching for her sleeping son.
“Take him with you. Put your hands over his mouth so he doesn’t make a sound if he wakes up!”
Laurel scooped the sleeping boy into her arms, hugging him tight against her chest along with the stuffed rabbit, and squeezed into the legwell beneath my massive oak desk. I grabbed a heavy brass paperweight from my desk—the only makeshift weapon I had—and stepped toward the door.
CLICK.
The lock on my door didn't give way with a crash. It opened with the smooth, professional precision of a master lockpick.
The door swung open slowly. A tall figure stepped into the shadowed doorway, silhouetted by the faint moonlight streaming through the hall window. He was dressed in black tactical gear, wearing a suppressed sidearm at his hip and holding a night-vision monocular over his left eye.
This wasn't Arthur Sterling. This was a professional contractor. A fixer.
“Michael Vance,” a low, raspy voice hissed from the dark. “Hand over the boy and the plush, and you walk out of this office alive. Refuse, and your legal career ends in an unfortunate burglary-gone-wrong.”
My heart hammered against my chest like a trapped bird. “You’re in the wrong office, friend. I don’t have what you’re looking for.”
The intruder took a slow step forward. The faint metallic click of his weapon’s safety disengaging cut through the quiet room. “Don’t play games. We’ve been tracking the mother’s phone since she left the hotel. We know she’s in this room.”
Suddenly, a tiny, terrified voice echoed from beneath the desk.
“Herbert?” Dash whimpered, waking up in the dark, his hands tightly gripping the rabbit’s ear. “Mommy, is the dark scary knight here?”
The intruder instantly turned his suppressed weapon toward the desk.
“NO!” Laurel screamed.
I didn't think. Instinct took over. I lunged across the room, driving my shoulder directly into the intruder’s midsection.
BOOM!
We both crashed onto the floor, colliding hard with a glass coffee table that shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. The contractor’s gun went off with a muffled THWIP, the bullet tearing through the drywall right where I had been standing a second before.
I smashed the brass paperweight down onto his wrist with all the strength I had. He grunted in pain, dropping the firearm. I kicked the gun across the slick hardwood floor toward the desk.
“Laurel! Grab the gun!” I roared, wrestling with the intruder who was far stronger and better trained than I was. He slammed a heavy fist into my jaw, sending stars exploding across my vision.
I fell back, tasting copper in my mouth. The man scrambled to his feet, reaching for a combat knife strapped to his vest.
BANG!
A deafening shot shattered the room's silence. The intruder froze, a look of pure shock crossing his face. A hole appeared in his left shoulder. He staggered backward, looked down at the blood blooming across his vest, then glared at Laurel.
Laurel stood by the desk, holding the heavy black handgun with both trembling hands, smoke wafting from the barrel.
“Get away from my son,” she said, her voice dropping into a deadly, ice-cold register.
The intruder gritted his teeth, realized the element of surprise was lost and that the gunshot would alert nearby street patrols, and retreated backward out the shattered door, disappearing down the dark staircase.
I pushed myself up from the floor, wiping blood from my lip, staring at Laurel in shock.
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“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” I gasped.
“Julian taught me,” she said, her hands shaking so hard she almost dropped the gun. “He knew this day would come.”
