Chapter 7 - THE ECHOES OF GUNFIRE
The gunshot was deafening inside the metal warehouse.
The recoil sent a sharp spike of pain through my injured left arm, but I kept both hands gripped tightly around the pistol.
I hadn’t hit Marcus Ashford. The bullet sparked off the concrete floor an inch from his boot.
I had intentionally missed. I wasn’t a killer.
But the distraction worked.
Marcus spun around, raising his revolver.
Sabrina screamed, diving behind a toolbox.
Before Marcus could fire, Marco stepped out beside me.
His movements were terrifyingly precise.
Bang. Bang.
Two shots.
The revolver flew out of Marcus Ashford’s hand as the first bullet shattered his wrist. The second bullet tore through his kneecap.
Marcus collapsed to the floor, howling in agony.
Marco kept his gun aimed squarely at the older man’s head as we advanced across the garage floor.
“Tie him,” Marco ordered me, keeping his eyes on the corners of the room.
I kept my gun raised and walked over to Mrs. Walsh.
I quickly untied the thick zip-ties binding her wrists.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
“I’m fine, Tessa,” the tough older woman gasped, rubbing her bruised wrists. “You have to find the boy. They put him in the office.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I sprinted toward the raised glass office overlooking the garage floor.
I threw the door open.
Leo was sitting on a dusty leather sofa, holding a wrench like a weapon.
His eyes were wide with terror, but when he saw me, he dropped the metal tool.
“Mom!”
I fell to my knees, catching him in a desperate, crushing hug.
“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Are you hurt?”
“No,” he sobbed into my shoulder. “The mean lady locked me in here.”
I held him tight, kissing the top of his head.
We were safe.
But the relief lasted only a second.
A sharp, metallic click sounded from the doorway.
I turned my head.
Sabrina was standing there.
Her designer dress was stained with grease. Her hair was wild.
And she was holding a small, silver derringer pistol aimed directly at Leo’s back.
“Put the gun down, Tessa,” Sabrina whispered.
Her eyes were completely manic. “Slide it across the floor. Or I put a bullet in your bastard’s spine.”
I froze.
My gun was in my right hand, down by my side.
If I raised it, she would shoot him.
“Sabrina, please,” I begged, my voice cracking.
“He’s a child. He has nothing to do with this.”
“He has everything to do with this!” she shrieked.
“Because of his pathetic father, my family’s empire is crumbling! Give me the necklace. Give me the key to the Zurich box.”
Slowly, carefully, I reached up with my injured left hand.
I pulled the silver chain from beneath my shirt.
I unclasped it and held the key up in the air.
“Take it,” I said softly.
“Just let us go.”
Sabrina stepped into the office, keeping the gun trained on Leo.
She reached out to snatch the key from my hand.
But as her fingers brushed the metal, a heavy voice echoed from the garage floor below.
“Sabrina.”
She flinched, looking through the glass window.
Marco was standing directly below the office, looking up at her.
He had lowered his gun.
“It’s over,” Marco said. His voice wasn’t angry. It was exhausted.
“Your father is bleeding out. My men have surrounded the building. The police are five minutes away. Drop the gun.”
Sabrina looked down at him.
A twisted, heartbreaking smile crossed her face.
“You never loved me, Marco. Did you? You just wanted a pretty trophy to sit at the end of your table.”
“I tried to love you,” Marco said quietly. “But you were always your father’s daughter.”
Sabrina’s eyes filled with tears.
She looked at the key in my hand.
Then, she looked back down at Marco.
“You think you’ve won?” she laughed bitterly.
“You think taking down my father fixes everything? You don’t even know who really orchestrated your wife’s death, do you?”
Marco went perfectly still.
“Marcus gave the order.”
“Marcus is a mechanic playing gangster!” Sabrina spat.
She stepped back from me, lowering the gun slightly.
“My father didn’t have the reach to run Elena off that bridge, Marco. He was hired by someone inside your own house. Someone who wanted you broken.”
Marco’s face paled.
“Who?”
Before Sabrina could answer, a single, suppressed gunshot echoed from the shadows of the catwalk above us.
Pfft.
Sabrina’s eyes went wide.
A small red hole appeared in the center of her forehead.
She collapsed backward, hitting the glass window before sliding to the floor, dead.
I screamed, pulling Leo flat against the dusty floorboards.
Marco spun around, raising his gun toward the catwalk.
But the shadows were empty.
The shooter was already gone.
I looked down at Sabrina’s lifeless body.
Her hand had fallen open.
Clutched in her fingers wasn’t her gun.
It was a piece of paper she had pulled from her pocket right before she died.
I crawled over and pulled it from her grip.
It was a flight itinerary.
First class. Philadelphia to Rome.
The passenger name wasn’t Marcus Ashford.
It wasn’t Sabrina.
May you like
The name on the ticket was Julian Santoro.
TITLE: The Traitor In The Blood
