Chapter 5 - The Trigger Under the Dining Table
Bullets tore through the conservatory glass.
Thousands of crystal shards rained down like winter hail.
Orchids exploded into green pulp.
Richard grabbed my collar and dragged me behind the massive stone fountain.
He fired twice over the marble rim.
Two sharp bangs.
A gunman shrieked and tumbled into the shattered foliage.
"Stay down!" Richard barked.
My ears were ringing.
Smoke and sulfur stung my eyes.
I pressed my back against the cold stone, holding the revolver tight.
Celeste was crawling toward the broken patio exit, shielded by the remaining
three hitmen.
"Richard!" she screamed over the gunfire.
"You're not leaving this estate alive! The whole council voted! You're
finished!"
"Cover the rear!" the lead gunman yelled, tossing a metal cylinder onto the tile
floor.
A tear-gas canister hissed.
White, blinding chemical smoke began pouring through the shattered glass.
Richard coughed, his eyes watering.
"Naomi. Under the banquet hall. There's a wine cellar entrance behind the
pantry."
He shoved two fresh magazines into my apron pocket.
"Run. Now."
"I'm not leaving you!" I shouted through the smoke.
"If I die, your son has no protector," Richard snarled, grabbing my face with a
soot-stained hand.
"Move!"
We bolted through the service door into the darkened main house.
The engagement party was in chaos.
Alarms wailed through the ceilings.
The wealthy guests had already fled, leaving tipped champagne flutes and
abandoned fur coats across the marble ballroom.
We burst into the grand dining room.
The chandelier swung violently overhead.
Suddenly, a figure stepped from behind the velvet drapes.
It was Daniel.
Richard’s trusted head of security.
His shirt was torn.
Blood dripped from his temple.
"Boss!" Daniel shouted, raising a submachine gun. "The south gate fell!
Moretti’s men are all over the driveway!"
Richard stopped.
"Daniel. You're alive."
"Barely. They ambushed the guardhouse."
Daniel stepped closer, glancing at me.
"We need to get you to the panic room."
I looked down.
Daniel was wearing his standard uniform.
Except his shoes.
His dress shoes were caked in red clay.
The red clay only found around the north conservatory where Marcus had been
waiting.
And on his left wrist was a brand-new platinum Rolex.
The same Rolex I had seen in Celeste’s bedroom catalog two days ago.
"Richard," I whispered, my blood turning to ice.
Richard saw it too.
The don didn't hesitate.
He didn't ask questions.
Richard threw the dining chair directly at Daniel’s knees.
Daniel cursed, stumbling, bringing the submachine gun up.
BANG!
A bullet ripped through the mahogany dining table, missing Richard’s ribs by an
inch.
I raised my .357 with both hands and pulled the heavy trigger.
The recoil slammed into my burned palm.
The blister split wide open, blood spraying across the linen tablecloth.
The bullet struck Daniel in the shoulder.
He screamed, dropping his weapon, slamming against the grandfather clock.
Richard crossed the room in two strides, kicking the gun away and pinning Daniel
to the floor with a combat boot on his throat.
"Another one," Richard rasped, his face dripping sweat.
"How much did she pay you, Daniel?"
Daniel choked on his own blood, glaring up with hatred.
"Enough... to bury you... Castellano..."
He reached for his belt with his good hand.
A small black remote control was strapped to his vest.
His thumb was already pressed against the glowing red button.
"The foundation..." Daniel coughed with a twisted smile.
"The whole south wing... is wired..."
A high-pitched electronic whine began humming beneath the floorboards.
May you like
The countdown had started.
Three seconds.
