Chapter 7 - THE HEAVY COAT
The beam of the flashlight was blinding. I threw my hand up to shield my eyes, keeping my other arm wrapped tightly around Matteo.
Alessandro pushed me behind him, raising his weapon squarely at the center of the light.
“Put the gun down, Romano,” a voice echoed from behind the flashlight.
I recognized that voice.
“Dr. Evans?” I gasped, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. He was Leo’s primary respiratory specialist. The man I trusted with my brother’s life every single day.
The doctor lowered the flashlight slightly, revealing his face. He looked exhausted, pale, and terrified. He was wearing the heavy winter coat I had tripped over, and his hands were shaking violently as he aimed the shotgun at us.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” Dr. Evans said, his voice cracking. “I didn't want this.”
“What are you doing here?!” I yelled, the betrayal cutting deeper than fear. “Who is with Leo?!”
“Leo is… Leo is in the van,” Dr. Evans stammered.
“What?!” I screamed, stepping out from behind Alessandro. “You took him off the ventilator? He’ll die!”
“He’s on a portable transport unit,” the doctor said quickly, taking a step back as Alessandro advanced. “Vincenzo’s men came to the hospital. They said they would kill my wife and daughters if I didn't personally transport your brother here. They want him as leverage.”
My knees nearly gave out. Leo was here. On the estate.
“Where is the van?” Alessandro demanded, his voice a low, lethal threat.
“In the main garage. Just past this door,” Dr. Evans pointed with the barrel of the shotgun. “But there are six men waiting for you. Vincenzo ordered me to stand here and shoot you if you came through the tunnel. If I don't… they’ll kill my family.”
“If you pull that trigger, Doc, you die before the buckshot leaves the barrel,” Alessandro said coldly.
“I know,” Evans sobbed, lowering the shotgun completely. It clattered against the concrete floor. “I can't do it. But you can't go out there. It’s a slaughterhouse.”
Behind us, a loud, metallic CLANG echoed down the tunnel.
Vincenzo’s men had breached the boiler room door. We were out of time.
“We have to go through the garage,” Alessandro said, picking up the shotgun. He looked at me. “Stay with the doctor and Matteo. Lock yourselves in the electrical closet halfway down the hall.”
“No,” I said, grabbing his arm. “My brother is out there. I’m not hiding.”
“Claire, you don't have a weapon, and you don't have armor,” he snapped.
“I have this,” I said, reaching down and picking up the heavy duffel bag containing the bearer bonds and the Romano signet ring. “They want this. Vincenzo won't let them shoot me if I’m holding ten million dollars.”
Alessandro stared at me. He saw the desperate fire in my eyes. I wasn't just a housekeeper anymore. I was a sister fighting for her family.
“Three minutes,” Alessandro said, his jaw tight. “Give me three minutes to clear the flanks. When you hear the third shotgun blast, you run for the black armored SUV in the center bay. Do not stop for anything.”
He turned to the doctor. “Keep Matteo safe. If my son dies, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”
Dr. Evans nodded frantically, grabbing Matteo’s hand and pulling him toward the small electrical closet.
Alessandro looked at me one last time. He reached out and touched my cheek. It was a fleeting, gentle gesture that contrasted completely with the violence surrounding us.
“I’ll get him back for you,” he promised.
Then he kicked open the steel door leading to the garage.
The roar of gunfire was instantaneous.
I pressed my back against the cold concrete wall, clutching the duffel bag to my chest. The noise was deafening. Pistol fire. The heavy rattle of an assault rifle.
Then, I heard it.
BOOM. The first shotgun blast.
Screams echoed in the massive garage.
BOOM. The second blast.
I closed my eyes, praying to whatever God was listening.
BOOM. The third blast.
I didn't hesitate. I pushed off the wall and sprinted through the doorway.
The garage was a war zone. Two luxury cars were riddled with bullet holes, their windows shattered. Three of Vincenzo’s men lay motionless on the polished epoxy floor.
Alessandro was pinned behind a concrete pillar, exchanging fire with two men near the exit gates.
In the center of the garage sat a black medical transport van.
And standing behind it, holding a pistol to the head of a small boy strapped to a portable oxygen tank, was Vincenzo.
“Stop!” Vincenzo roared, seeing me run into the room.
He pressed the gun harder against Leo’s temple. My brother was unconscious, pale, a clear tube taped to his mouth.
“Leo!” I screamed, stopping dead in my tracks.
Alessandro ceased firing immediately, stepping out from behind the pillar, his shotgun raised but steady.
“You drop the guns, or the sick boy gets a permanent cure!” Vincenzo sneered.
“Let him go, Vincenzo!” I cried, holding up the duffel bag. “I have the bonds! I have the ring! Take it and leave!”
Vincenzo smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. “Slide the bag across the floor, my dear.”
I threw the bag. It slid smoothly across the epoxy, stopping at Vincenzo’s feet.
He didn't take his gun off Leo. He reached down with his free hand and unzipped the bag. He saw the stacks of paper and the velvet box.
“Excellent,” Vincenzo breathed.
“Now let him go,” I pleaded.
Vincenzo looked at me, then at Alessandro. His smile vanished, replaced by pure malice.
“You really are a naive girl,” Vincenzo said.
May you like
He raised his pistol, pointing it directly at my chest.
“Did you really think I would leave witnesses?”
