Chapter 5 - The Woman They Chose Wrong
Sadi woke with duct tape around her wrists and a headache powerful enough to make her reconsider every decision she had made since birth.
She opened one eye.
Concrete floor.
Metal chair.
One naked light bulb.
“Great,” she whispered. “Very original.”
A man standing near the door turned.
Rourke.
Sadi’s fear immediately sharpened into anger.
“You.”
“Morning.”
“You left a syringe outside the archive.”
“Yes.”
“Potassium chloride?”
“Yes.”
“You could’ve killed him.”
Rourke smiled.
“That was the idea.”
Sadi pulled against the tape.
“Patrick?”
Rourke’s smile vanished.
So she had guessed correctly.
A second door opened.
Patrick Gallagher walked inside.
He looked exactly as he always did.
Expensive suit.
Silver hair.
Calm smile.
That somehow made him worse.
“You caused the bombing.”
Patrick sighed.
“Desmond always did appreciate directness.”
“Why?”
“Because my brother left everything to him.”
There it was.
Not ideology.
Not revenge.
Jealousy.
Patrick poured himself a drink.
“I spent thirty years building Gallagher operations beside his father. Then Michael died and handed the entire organization to a thirty-two-year-old boy.”
“Desmond.”
“A reckless child.”
“You put a bomb under his car because you didn’t get promoted?”
Patrick’s glass stopped halfway to his mouth.
“I removed an obstacle.”
“You failed.”
His expression hardened.
“No. I adapted.”
Sadi understood.
The paralysis.
The nurses.
The medication.
The isolation.
“You wanted him helpless.”
“I wanted the captains to lose confidence.”
“And Brennan kept him sick.”
Patrick smiled.
“Now you understand.”
Sadi felt nauseated.
The spasms.
The fatigue.
The medications Brennan had controlled.
“How much of his condition is actually from the spinal injury?”
Patrick looked amused.
“Enough.”
That answer mattered.
Sadi stored it away.
“What do you want from me?”
“Desmond.”
Patrick checked his watch.
“He’ll come.”
“You fired me.”
Patrick laughed softly.
“That man could throw you out of Massachusetts and still burn the state down if somebody touched you.”
Despite everything, Sadi’s heart twisted.
Meanwhile, twenty miles away, Desmond sat inside an armored SUV while Frankie argued with him.
“You cannot go alone.”
“They’ll kill her.”
“They’ll kill you.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then think.”
Desmond looked through the windshield.
For six months, everyone had treated his wheelchair as a weakness.
Patrick most of all.
That was the mistake.
Desmond turned toward Frankie.
“He expects me desperate.”
“You are desperate.”
“Yes.”
A cold smile appeared.
“But he doesn’t need to know I can still think.”
They built the plan around the one thing Patrick underestimated.
Sadi.
Desmond knew she would not wait passively for rescue.
He was right.
Inside the warehouse, Sadi had spent forty minutes rubbing the edge of her duct tape against a broken bolt beneath the chair.
Her wrist bled.
She kept going.
Patrick received a call.
“He’s here.”
Patrick smiled.
“Alone?”
“Looks that way.”
Sadi finally cut through the tape.
She kept her hands together.
Patrick approached her.
“You’re about to see what happens when powerful men mistake affection for strength.”
“No,” Sadi said.
He paused.
“I think I’m about to see what happens when arrogant men mistake wheelchairs for stupidity.”
She slammed her forehead into his nose.
Patrick screamed.
Sadi ripped her hands free and ran.
Gunfire erupted outside.
Frankie’s team breached the warehouse from three entrances.
Desmond drove his wheelchair straight through the loading entrance wearing a ballistic vest and holding a handgun.
“Get down!”
Sadi dove behind machinery.
Rourke fired.
Desmond returned two shots.
Rourke disappeared behind a support column.
Patrick grabbed Sadi from behind.
A gun pressed against her temple.
Everything stopped.
Patrick dragged her into view.
Desmond froze.
“Drop it.”
Desmond lowered his weapon.
“Uncle.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Let her go.”
“Get out of the chair.”
Frankie whispered through Desmond’s earpiece.
“Don’t.”
Patrick smiled.
“I want you on the floor.”
Sadi’s eyes widened.
She understood exactly what Patrick wanted.
Humiliation.
Desmond slowly locked his wheels.
Then he placed both hands on the armrests.
He transferred himself down.
His knees hit concrete.
Patrick laughed.
“There he is.”
Desmond dragged himself forward using his arms.
Sadi’s eyes filled.
Not because he looked weak.
Because she knew what this cost him.
“Enough,” she whispered.
Patrick tightened his grip.
“Crawl.”
Desmond did.
One foot.
Then another.
Until he was only six feet away.
Patrick looked triumphant.
That was when Desmond smiled.
Patrick’s expression changed.
Sadi stomped backward onto Patrick’s foot and dropped her weight.
The gun moved from her temple.
Desmond pulled a second weapon from beneath his vest.
One shot.
Patrick’s gun flew from his hand.
Frankie’s men swarmed.
Seconds later, it was over.
Sadi ran toward Desmond.
She dropped onto the concrete.
“You idiot.”
He pulled her into his arms.
“You’re bleeding.”
“So are you.”
“I’m not.”
“Emotionally, you’re a disaster.”
A laugh escaped him.
Then Sadi kissed him.
No hesitation.
No permission.
No fear.
Desmond froze for half a second.
Then his hand slid behind her neck and he kissed her back.
Frankie turned away.
“Everybody suddenly needs to inspect the perimeter.”
The men scattered.
Sadi rested her forehead against Desmond’s.
“I’m still fired?”
“Absolutely.”
She punched his shoulder.
He smiled.
“Because I’m not hiring you back as my nurse.”
Her expression fell.
Desmond touched her cheek.
“I want you somewhere I can’t pay you to stay.”
For once, Sadi had no sarcastic answer.
Then police sirens sounded in the distance.
And Patrick, handcuffed on the floor, started laughing.
“You still don’t understand,” he called.
Desmond looked over.
Patrick smiled through blood.
“The bomb wasn’t my idea.”
The warehouse went silent.
May you like
Patrick leaned closer.
“Ask your mother.”
