Chapter 6 - The Fire Escape And The Black Car
“She’s at my apartment,” I gasped, the blood rushing in my ears. “With Sophie. Luca, what does the text say?”
Luca didn't hand me the phone. He turned to Daniel, his voice snapping with absolute authority. “Get the armored SUV. Now. Bring four men. We are leaving in thirty seconds.”
“Yes, Boss,” Daniel barked, turning and sprinting down the hallway.
Luca grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the library. “We’re going to get your daughter.”
“What did the text say?!” I screamed, struggling to keep up with his long, urgent strides as he pulled me toward the front entrance.
Luca pushed the heavy front doors open, pulling me out into the freezing October night. The armored black SUV was already screeching to a halt at the bottom of the steps, doors flying open.
“Vanessa didn't just tell Helen to plant the bracelet,” Luca said, practically throwing me into the backseat before climbing in beside me. “She told Helen that if I didn't press charges against you tonight, she was going to handle the problem herself.”
The doors slammed shut. The SUV tore down the driveway, the tires squealing as Daniel took the corner out of the estate gates at terrifying speed.
“Handle it how?” I cried, panic constricting my throat.
Luca looked at me, his dark eyes grim in the passing streetlights. “The text said: The police won't arrest her without proof. My father’s men are going to the apartment to ensure she doesn't show up for work on Monday.”
A choked sob tore from my throat. “They’re going to hurt them. Oh God, Luca, my little girl—”
“Call your mother,” Luca ordered, handing me my purse. “Tell her to lock the doors and get away from the windows.”
I fumbled with my phone, my hands shaking so violently I dropped it twice before finally hitting my mother’s contact. It rang. And rang. And rang.
“She’s not answering,” I sobbed, hitting redial. “Please, Mom, pick up.”
“Daniel, faster,” Luca growled, leaning forward between the front seats.
“I’m doing ninety, Boss,” Daniel replied, weaving violently through the late-night Chicago traffic.
We lived on the third floor of a crumbling brick walk-up on the south side. It wasn't a great neighborhood, but it was all I could afford. The building had a rusted fire escape clinging to the side and a front door that didn't always lock properly.
As the SUV tore down our street, I saw it.
A sleek, black Lincoln Town Car was idling right in front of my building. Two massive men in dark suits were standing on the sidewalk, looking up at the third-floor windows. One of them was holding a heavy steel crowbar.
“That’s them!” I screamed, pointing at the window. “They’re trying to get in!”
Before the SUV even came to a complete stop, Luca threw his door open. He didn't wait for his men. He drew a sleek, black handgun from a shoulder holster hidden beneath his suit jacket and stepped out into the street.
“Stay in the car, Rachel!” Luca ordered, slamming the door behind him.
But I couldn't. My daughter was in there.
I scrambled out the other side of the SUV, running toward the building just as Daniel and the other three guards poured out, weapons drawn.
The two men in suits saw Luca approaching. They recognized him instantly. The man with the crowbar dropped it on the sidewalk, raising his hands in surrender.
“We ain't doing nothing, Moretti!” the man shouted, taking a step back as Luca raised his weapon, pointing it directly at the man’s chest.
“Where is the rest of your crew?” Luca barked, his voice echoing off the brick buildings.
“There’s two more inside,” the second man admitted quickly, his eyes darting to the armed guards surrounding them. “Vanessa sent us. She just wanted us to trash the place. Scare her a little. We weren't gonna hurt the kid.”
“If you laid a finger on that little girl, you are dead men,” Luca said coldly. He turned to Daniel. “Secure them. Don't let the car leave.”
Luca turned and sprinted through the front doors of the apartment building. I was right behind him, ignoring his previous order to stay back.
We took the narrow, dimly lit stairs two at a time. I could hear heavy, muffled thudding coming from the third floor. Someone was kicking a door.
We reached the third-floor landing.
Two massive men were taking turns throwing their weight against my apartment door. The cheap wood of the frame was already splintering.
“Hey!” Luca shouted.
The men spun around. Before they could even reach for their weapons, Luca fired two shots into the ceiling. The deafening CRACK of the gunfire in the enclosed stairwell made my ears ring.
The two men froze, dropping to their knees and putting their hands behind their heads.
“Face the wall,” Luca ordered, stepping forward and kicking a discarded baseball bat away from their reach.
I didn't care about the men. I threw myself at my apartment door. It was jammed, the deadbolt bent from the impact of the kicks.
“Mom! Sophie!” I screamed, pounding on the wood. “It’s me! It’s Rachel! Open the door!”
Silence.
“Mom, please!” I sobbed, terrifying scenarios flooding my mind.
Then, I heard a tiny, muffled voice from the other side.
“Mommy?”
“Sophie!” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “Baby, unlock the door!”
“I can't,” she whimpered. “Grandma put the heavy dresser in front of it.”
Luca stepped up beside me. He holstered his weapon, grabbed the door handle, and shoved his shoulder against the splintered wood. With one massive heave, the door cracked open, pushing the heavy wooden dresser backward just enough for us to squeeze through.
I squeezed inside.
The apartment was dark. My mother was huddled in the corner of the small living room, clutching Sophie tightly against her chest. She had pushed every piece of furniture we owned against the front door to barricade it.
“Mom!” I dropped to my knees, throwing my arms around both of them.
“Rachel!” my mother sobbed, burying her face in my shoulder. “They were trying to get in. They said they were police, but they didn't have badges.”
“It’s okay, you’re safe,” I cried, kissing Sophie’s tear-stained cheeks.
Sophie looked past me, her large brown eyes widening in fear.
Luca had stepped into the apartment. He looked massive in the small, cramped space. The violent, terrifying aura he had carried in the hallway was instantly gone. He looked around the meager living room, at the battered furniture, the cheap toys, and finally, at the small kitchen table.
Sitting in the center of the table was the beautiful strawberry cake he had given me.
The number-eight candle had burned down to a stub. They had lit it in the dark, waiting for me.
Luca walked slowly toward us. He knelt down on one knee, bringing himself to eye level with my terrified daughter.
“Hello, Sophie,” Luca said, his voice incredibly gentle. “My name is Luca. I work with your mom.”
Sophie sniffled, clinging to my neck. “Are you the boss who wouldn't let her come home?”
Luca’s expression tightened with a brief flash of pain.
“No, sweetheart,” Luca said softly. “I’m the boss who made sure she got the cake. And I’m here to take you somewhere safe.”
He stood up and looked at me.
“Pack whatever you can carry in ten minutes,” Luca ordered. “We’re leaving.”
But before I could even stand up, the sound of breaking glass shattered the quiet from the kitchen.
We all jumped.
Luca instantly drew his gun again, stepping between us and the kitchen doorway.
Someone hadn't come through the front door. Someone had come up the fire escape.
May you like
A man dressed entirely in black stepped out of the kitchen, holding a suppressed pistol. He didn't look like the thugs in the hallway. He moved with cold, silent precision.
And he aimed the gun directly at Luca’s back.
