Chapter 4 - The Siege of Lincoln Park
The warmth of the room vanished in a single heartbeat.
Gabriel stood up instantly, all traces of gentleness evaporating from his features. The man who sat before Claire was no longer just a wealthy CEO or a grateful uncle; he was the undisputed king of the Chicago underworld, a general preparing for total war.
"How long do we have?" Gabriel demanded, his voice hard as iron.
"Less than ten minutes," Mason said, tapping his tablet. "They used a military-grade cell tracker to trace the emergency bandwidth from the delivery van Claire drove. They're bringing two full tactical units. Heavy armor. Automatic weapons."
Claire pushed herself up against the pillows, ignoring the sharp twinge in her ribs. "They're coming here? Because of the van?"
"They tracked the GPS transponder we forgot to disable," Gabriel said, his jaw clenching as he looked down at her. He pulled a heavy, suppressed automatic pistol from a holster beneath his arm and checked the magazine with a practiced, lethal click. "Which means they know exactly where we are."
"I can walk," Claire said, swinging her legs over the side of the sofa. Her bare feet touched the cold hardwood floor, and she winced as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
Gabriel was by her side in a second, his strong hand catching her upper arm to steady her. "You are staying right here. The safe house has an underground reinforced bunker beneath the wine cellar. Mason will take you and Eli down."
"No," Claire said, pulling her arm back with a surprising flash of defiance. She stood up, swaying slightly before catching her balance against the back of the sofa. "I'm not hiding while they come for you. I drove twenty-eight miles through a storm with this baby, Mr. Kane. I am not about to sit in a hole while someone tries to burn this place down around us."
Gabriel stared at her, a mixture of profound shock and blazing admiration burning in his dark eyes. Most women—most people—would have collapsed into hysterics or begged to be hidden away. Claire Bennett looked ready to pick up a rifle.
"Stubborn accountant," Gabriel muttered under his breath, though a dark, approving smirk touched his lips. He turned to Mason. "Get them to the sub-level stairwell. Lock the blast doors from the inside once you're down."
"And you, boss?" Mason asked, his eyes narrowing.
"I'm going to welcome our guests," Gabriel said coldly, racking the slide of his pistol.
Before Mason could argue, the thick glass of the front window shattered inward in a blinding cascade of diamond-like shards. Automatic gunfire ripped through the room, chewing up the oak walls and sending splinters flying in all directions.
"Down!" Gabriel roared.
He threw himself across the sofa, shielding Claire and the sleeping baby with his own body as bullets slammed into the leather cushions with dull, heavy thuds. Glass rained down like hail, and the sharp, choking smell of cordite filled the air.
"Mason! Move!" Gabriel shouted over the deafening racket of assault rifle fire from the courtyard outside.
Mason didn't hesitate. He scooped up baby Eli from the sofa, keeping his body low, and grabbed Claire by her uninjured arm, hauling her toward the reinforced steel corridor leading to the back quarters.
"Gabriel!" Claire screamed over the noise, her hand reaching out toward him as Mason pulled her away.
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"Go!" Gabriel yelled back, his eyes locked on her for one agonizing second before he rolled across the floor, raised his weapon, and fired three precise shots through the shattered window frame into the dark, rainy courtyard. A heavy thud outside signaled a hit.
Claire was dragged into the corridor as the heavy steel blast door slammed shut behind them, sealing off the safe room with a deafening hydraulic hiss.
