Chapter 6 - THE OLD DOG’S LAST BITE
Bruno didn't growl this time. He was a silent, gray missile of pure fury.
The fourteen-year-old German shepherd slammed into Vanessa’s chest with enough force to knock her backward. Her gun skittered across the floor, sliding under the heavy leather sofa.
Vanessa shrieked in terror as Bruno pinned her down, his heavy paws pressing into her shoulders. He didn't bite her face, but he bared his teeth inches from her throat, a terrifying promise of what would happen if she moved.
I didn't waste the opportunity. I scrambled to my feet, my ribs screaming in pain, and grabbed the heavy brass letter opener from Luca’s desk.
I stood over Vanessa, pressing the point of the brass blade against her chest.
“Call him off!” Vanessa sobbed, completely paralyzed by fear.
“Stay, Bruno,” I ordered, my voice shaking but firm. The dog held his ground perfectly.
I looked at Dominic, who was groaning on the floor, trying to push himself up.
“Dominic, where did they take her?” I demanded.
Dominic wiped blood from his mouth, his eyes filled with a desperate clarity. “The shipping yards. Marco Rossi’s warehouse on Pier 9. It’s where they process the smuggling shipments. They’ll use it to hold her hostage until Luca surrenders the territory.”
“I’m going after her,” I said.
“You can't,” Dominic coughed, struggling to stand. “They have thirty armed men. You’re a maid.”
“I’m the only one who isn't a target,” I countered. “They won't be looking for me.”
I grabbed Vanessa’s discarded purse from the floor and dumped it out. I found her car keys.
“Bruno, guard her,” I commanded.
The old dog let out a low rumble, his eyes locked on the traitor beneath him.
I ran out of the study, slipping through the servant’s corridors to the back garage. The gunfire in the main house had subsided, meaning Marco’s men had retreated with their prize.
I found Vanessa’s sleek black Mercedes in the garage, threw it into reverse, and tore out of the estate, speeding toward the city.
My mind raced with Vanessa’s cruel revelation. Lily wasn't Luca’s biological daughter? Was that why he was always traveling? Why he seemed so distant?
It didn't matter. Biology didn't make a father. Love did. And Luca loved that little girl fiercely. I had seen it tonight.
I arrived at Pier 9 in less than twenty minutes. The massive, rusted warehouse was heavily guarded. Six men in dark suits stood near the loading dock, smoking and holding automatic rifles.
I couldn't just walk up to the door.
I parked the Mercedes two blocks away and crept through the shadows of the shipping containers.
I remembered my father’s stories from his days working on the docks. He had told me about the old maintenance tunnels that ran beneath the piers, used for draining floodwater in the winter.
I found a rusted iron grate hidden behind a stack of wooden pallets. I pried it open, tearing my fingernails on the rough metal, and dropped into the dark, damp tunnel.
I crawled through the freezing mud for what felt like miles, guided only by the faint light leaking through the grates above.
Finally, I reached the grate that opened directly beneath the warehouse floor.
I carefully pushed it up and peeked inside.
The warehouse was massive, filled with stacked crates. In the center of the room, Marco Rossi sat on a wooden chair, smoking a cigar.
And suspended above him, tied to a heavy industrial crane by her wrists, was Lily. She was crying, dangling ten feet in the air.
“Call the Boss,” Marco ordered one of his men. “Tell him he has twenty minutes to sign the territory over, or the girl drops into the harbor.”
I felt a cold rage settle in my chest. I wasn't just going to save her. I was going to ruin them.
And then, I noticed a heavy, gray wool coat draped over a crate near the control panel for the crane.
May you like
It was my father’s coat.
TITLE: THE COAT FROM THE PAST
