Chapter 8 - The Final Debt
“Victor, stop!” Vanessa shrieked, clutching her rosary. “You said we were just going to force him to sign the businesses over! You didn’t say anything about the girl!”
Victor didn’t even look at her. With his scarred hand, he backhanded Vanessa across the face, sending her sprawling onto the concrete floor. “Shut up, you stupid woman. You think I leave witnesses?”
I pushed Lucy behind me, my heart pounding so hard I thought my chest would crack. I looked frantically around the small root cellar. There was no other exit. Just the stairs blocked by three heavily armed men.
Gabriel stood slowly, placing himself directly in front of me and his daughter. He held his hands up, his posture projecting a calm he couldn’t possibly be feeling.
“Victor,” Gabriel said smoothly. “You want the territory. You want the shipments. You can have them. I’ll make the calls right now.”
Victor chuckled. “I already have them, Gabe. The capos are loyal to whoever is breathing. And in about two minutes, that won’t be you.”
He cocked the hammer of his weapon.
Buddy growled, a deep, primal sound that echoed off the damp walls. The old golden retriever stepped in front of Gabriel, baring his teeth.
“Shoot the dog first,” Victor ordered one of his men.
“No!” Lucy screamed, trying to push past me.
I had to do something. My eyes darted to the wooden desk in the corner. Above it, an old, heavy iron shelving unit hung on the wall, holding heavy jars of pickled preserves Michael had likely stored years ago.
I didn’t think. I just moved.
I lunged toward the desk, grabbed a heavy wooden chair, and swung it as hard as I could against the iron shelf brackets.
The shelf collapsed with a deafening crash. Dozens of glass jars shattered against the stone floor, spraying sticky syrup, vinegar, and broken glass across the feet of Victor’s men.
The men cursed, slipping and stumbling backward to avoid the glass.
In that split second of distraction, the security chief raised his weapon and fired twice. Two of Victor’s men went down.
Gabriel lunged forward, tackling Victor to the ground before he could aim his weapon. The two men crashed into the shattered glass, fighting viciously for control of the gun.
I grabbed Lucy’s hand and pulled her behind the heavy canvas curtain, sheltering her with my body. Buddy stayed right beside us, barking furiously.
A gunshot rang out.
The cellar fell dead silent.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to a God I hadn’t spoken to since my husband died.
Slowly, the heavy canvas was pulled back.
Gabriel stood there. His face was bruised, and his knuckles were bloody, but his chest was rising and falling steadily. He dropped Victor’s gun onto the floor.
Victor lay motionless behind him.
Gabriel fell to his knees in front of us, wrapping his arms around Lucy and burying his face in my shoulder.
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“It’s over,” he sobbed, his massive frame shaking. “It’s over. I’ve got you.”
TITLE: The Monday Morning Bank
