Chapter 4 - THE DEBT HER FATHER LEFT BEHIND
Clara was already moving toward the elevator.
Dominic stepped in front of her.
“Move.”
“No.”
“My mother has been taken.”
“And running into Gallagher’s hands gets both of you killed.”
“I said move.”
“No.”
Clara shoved him.
He didn’t move.
She shoved harder.
“Get out of my way!”
“Clara.”
“GET OUT OF MY WAY!”
Her fist struck his chest.
Then again.
On the third blow, the fear finally broke through.
“My mother is all I have.”
Dominic caught her wrists, not violently, just enough to stop her from hurting herself.
Clara’s breath collapsed into a sob.
“I already lost my dad.”
Dominic released her immediately.
She covered her face.
He stood there helplessly.
A man who could command fifty armed men had no idea what to do with one crying woman.
Finally he said, “We’ll get her back.”
Clara looked up.
“Don’t promise things you can’t control.”
His eyes held hers.
“Then I’ll promise what I can control. I will not stop looking.”
That was different.
She wiped her face.
“Okay.”
The next six hours revealed a story Clara had never been meant to know.
Thomas Jenkins had not merely been an accountant.
He had managed legitimate financial records for Salvatore Russo’s construction companies.
When Thomas discovered Gallagher laundering money through union pension funds, he copied the records.
Salvatore apparently agreed to help him expose Gallagher.
But before they could act, Thomas was murdered.
Three weeks later, Salvatore Russo publicly accused Gallagher.
Then Salvatore died in a warehouse fire.
Dominic had been twenty-three.
“My father told me Gallagher killed him,” Dominic said.
“Did you believe him?”
“He died before he could tell me everything.”
Clara stared at the files spread across Dominic’s dining table.
“So our fathers were working together.”
“It appears that way.”
“And somebody made sure neither finished.”
Victor entered.
“We located Clara’s mother.”
Clara stood.
“Where?”
“Gallagher owns an abandoned rehabilitation center outside Joliet.”
“Then we go.”
Dominic nodded.
“No argument?”
“No.”
That frightened her more.
By nightfall, Clara sat in an armored SUV between Rosa and Victor.
Dominic had wanted her to remain behind.
She had refused.
This time he hadn’t ordered her.
Progress.
The plan was simple.
Gallagher believed Clara possessed the drive.
Dominic would offer a decoy.
While Gallagher’s men inspected it, Victor’s team would extract Clara’s mother.
Nothing about it felt simple.
The abandoned center rose from the darkness like a dead hospital.
Dominic looked at Clara before leaving the SUV.
“Stay here.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“You promised not to order me.”
“I’m breaking that promise.”
“Then I’m breaking your nose.”
For half a second, he almost smiled.
“Clara.”
“My mother sees strangers with guns, she panics. She needs me.”
Dominic knew he had lost.
“Stay behind me.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Inside, the building smelled of mold.
Gallagher waited in the old therapy hall.
He was sixty, broad, silver-haired, dressed like a businessman attending dinner.
Clara hated him instantly.
“So,” Gallagher said. “Thomas Jenkins’s little girl.”
“Where’s my mother?”
“You have his temper.”
“Where is she?”
Gallagher smiled.
“Your father asked questions too.”
Dominic moved subtly closer to Clara.
Gallagher noticed.
“How fascinating.”
“What?” Dominic asked.
“The great Dominic Russo protecting a waitress.”
“She isn’t your concern.”
“Oh, I think she is.”
Gallagher held out his hand.
“The drive.”
Dominic tossed him a flash drive.
Gallagher gave it to a man with a laptop.
Seconds passed.
Then the man nodded.
Clara knew immediately something had gone wrong.
Gallagher smiled.
“This is fake.”
Gunfire exploded somewhere downstairs.
Dominic pushed Clara behind a concrete column.
Men shouted.
Lights shattered.
Clara covered her ears.
Dominic fired toward the hallway while Victor’s voice came through his earpiece.
“We have Mrs. Jenkins!”
Clara nearly collapsed with relief.
“Go!” Dominic shouted.
They ran.
A bullet struck the wall beside Clara.
Dominic turned, covering her body with his.
Another shot.
He jerked.
Clara felt him stumble.
“Dominic?”
“I’m fine.”
He wasn’t.
Blood spread beneath his jacket.
“Dominic!”
“Move!”
They reached the SUV.
Victor pulled them inside.
Clara pressed both hands against Dominic’s side.
Blood soaked through her fingers.
“Stay awake.”
He looked at her.
“Bossy.”
“Shut up.”
“Thought you liked my mouth.”
“I hate your mouth.”
“Liar.”
His eyes closed.
Clara slapped his cheek.
“Dominic!”
His eyes reopened.
Her mother sat opposite them, frightened but alive.
“Clara?”
“Mom.”
Clara wanted to reach for her.
She couldn’t remove pressure from Dominic’s wound.
Her mother understood.
“I’m okay, baby.”
Clara looked down at Dominic.
“Why did you do that?”
He breathed painfully.
“What?”
“You stepped in front of me.”
He looked almost confused by the question.
“There was a bullet.”
“That isn’t an explanation!”
A weak smile appeared.
“It seemed self-explanatory.”
Tears filled Clara’s eyes.
“You arrogant idiot.”
“Parade float.”
She stared at him.
His smile disappeared.
“Sorry.”
Despite everything, Clara laughed through her tears.
Then Dominic whispered, “Your mother’s safe.”
His eyes closed again.
This time they did not reopen.
“Dominic?”
No response.
Victor shouted at the driver.
The SUV accelerated.
At the hospital, doctors rushed Dominic into surgery.
Clara sat beside her mother for three hours with dried blood covering her hands.
At 4:11 a.m., Victor emerged from the surgical wing.
“He made it.”
Clara lowered her head.
Relief hurt more than fear.
Her mother squeezed her hand.
“You love him?”
Clara looked horrified.
“I hate him.”
Her mother smiled faintly.
“I didn’t ask that.”
Before Clara could answer, Victor approached carrying a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was Dominic’s bloodstained shirt.
And something else.
A small silver object had fallen from the inside pocket of his jacket.
A watch.
Clara stopped breathing.
She knew that watch.
She had seen it every morning of her childhood.
May you like
It had belonged to her father.
---
