Chapter 5 - Blood Beneath the Chandelier
Fay knew something was wrong before the SUV stopped.
Too many vehicles surrounded the hospital.
Vincent's men.
Police.
Fire trucks.
Fay opened the door before the driver could.
Vincent caught her arm.
“Wait.”
“My mother is inside.”
“I know.”
“Then let go.”
He did.
But he stayed directly beside her.
Marco met them near the emergency entrance.
“Ellen's missing.”
Fay stopped.
Everything inside her went silent.
“No.”
“Security footage shows a man dressed as a physician escorting her toward the service elevator during the alarm.”
“No.”
“We've locked down the building.”
“My mother can barely walk after treatment.”
Marco's expression tightened.
“I know.”
Fay turned toward Vincent.
“You promised.”
The words hit him.
She saw it.
“You promised she'd be safe.”
“I know.”
“Where is she?”
“We'll find her.”
“That isn't an answer!”
People looked toward them.
Vincent did not react to her raised voice.
“I know.”
Fay's anger collapsed into terror.
“She'll be scared.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“We're getting her back.”
A security technician ran toward Marco carrying a tablet.
“We found the vehicle.”
They watched footage.
A black medical transport van left the service garage seventeen minutes earlier.
License plate hidden.
Marco said, “Traffic cameras picked it up heading north.”
Vincent asked, “Toward what?”
The technician hesitated.
“The Cross estate.”
Fay stared.
“What?”
Vincent went still.
Then realization struck him.
“Rourke.”
They had left Anthony Rourke detained at the mansion.
The kidnapping was never about moving Ellen somewhere else.
It was a distraction.
Someone wanted Vincent away from his home.
“Call the estate.”
Marco tried.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Vincent's expression darkened.
“Move.”
The convoy raced back through the city.
Fay sat rigidly beside him.
“What does Rourke want?”
“My organization.”
“Then why my mother?”
“Leverage.”
“Against me?”
“Against both of us.”
Fay stared at him.
Vincent looked out the window.
“They know you matter to the investigation.”
That was not exactly what she had asked.
But she had no strength to push further.
When they reached the estate, the front gates stood open.
That had never happened.
Two guards lay unconscious near the security post.
Vincent entered with his gun drawn.
“Stay behind Marco.”
“No.”
“Fay.”
“My mother is in there.”
He looked at her.
Then nodded once.
“Behind me.”
They entered through the grand foyer.
The enormous chandelier glittered above polished marble.
No music.
No staff.
No movement.
Then applause echoed from the ballroom.
Slow.
Mocking.
Anthony Rourke stepped through the doors.
He held a gun.
Behind him stood six armed men.
And Ellen Miller.
Fay's breath broke.
“Mom.”
Ellen's eyes filled with tears.
“Fay?”
A man held her upright.
She looked pale from treatment but unharmed.
Rourke smiled.
“How touching.”
Vincent raised his weapon.
Rourke pressed his gun against Ellen's shoulder.
“Don't.”
Vincent stopped.
“Let her go.”
Rourke laughed.
“You still think you're giving orders.”
“This is between you and me.”
“No. It became bigger than that when your little maid remembered Saint Mercy.”
Fay stepped forward.
Vincent blocked her with one arm.
Rourke noticed.
His smile widened.
“There it is.”
Vincent's face remained cold.
“What?”
“Your weakness.”
Fay looked at Vincent.
Rourke continued.
“Your father never would have cared about staff.”
“I'm not my father.”
“Exactly.”
Rourke's expression twisted.
“You've become soft.”
Vincent's voice dropped.
“No. I've become selective.”
Rourke gestured toward Ellen.
“Tell her, Fay.”
“Tell me what?” Ellen asked.
Fay's eyes burned.
“Nothing, Mom.”
“Tell her who you work for.”
Ellen looked between Fay and Vincent.
Confusion became fear.
Rourke laughed.
“Your daughter has spent three years polishing floors for a criminal empire.”
“Enough,” Vincent said.
Rourke ignored him.
“And now she's become the reason the empire falls.”
Fay stared.
“What do you want?”
“Vincent's access codes.”
Vincent said, “No.”
Rourke pressed the gun harder against Ellen.
Fay cried, “Wait!”
Vincent's eyes met hers.
Rourke said, “The accounts. The ports. The political contacts. Everything.”
Vincent remained still.
“You know I won't give you that.”
“Then Mrs. Miller dies.”
Ellen began crying.
“Please don't hurt my daughter.”
Rourke smiled.
“This isn't about hurting your daughter.”
Fay's hands shook.
Vincent slowly lowered his gun.
Marco looked at him.
“Boss.”
Vincent ignored him.
“Release Ellen.”
“Codes first.”
Vincent reached inside his jacket.
Rourke's men raised weapons.
Slowly, Vincent removed his phone.
“I'll transfer access.”
Fay stared.
He was going to surrender.
Because of her mother.
Rourke tossed a tablet across the marble floor.
“Do it.”
Vincent picked it up.
He began typing.
Fay watched his face.
Calm.
Too calm.
Then she remembered something from the docks.
Vincent never made decisions because he was angry.
And he never surrendered without calculating.
His thumb moved three times along the tablet edge.
Marco subtly shifted his stance.
A signal.
Rourke did not see it.
Fay did.
Vincent looked toward her.
One second.
Then toward the chandelier.
Fay followed his gaze.
Above Rourke's men hung thousands of pieces of heavy crystal.
The support controls sat inside a wall panel near the doorway.
Fay knew because she cleaned around it every week.
She understood.
Vincent said, “You'll need biometric confirmation.”
Rourke smiled.
“Then confirm it.”
Fay stepped backward.
One inch.
Another.
Nobody noticed the maid.
That was the advantage of being a ghost.
Rourke watched Vincent.
His men watched Marco.
Fay reached the wall.
Her fingers found the panel.
She opened it.
Inside were lighting controls.
And a maintenance release.
She pulled it.
A deafening mechanical crack exploded overhead.
Everyone looked up.
The chandelier dropped six feet on its emergency maintenance cable.
Crystal crashed together.
Rourke's men ducked instinctively.
Vincent moved.
Gunfire erupted.
Marco slammed into the nearest armed man.
Fay ran toward her mother.
Rourke grabbed Ellen.
Fay seized a silver serving tray from a console table and swung it with both hands.
It struck Rourke's wrist.
His gun flew away.
Ellen collapsed.
Fay covered her.
Rourke lunged toward them.
Vincent crossed the distance in seconds.
He hit Rourke once.
Hard.
Rourke went down.
Vincent did not shoot him.
He placed a shoe against Rourke's wrist and kicked the gun away.
Around them, the remaining attackers surrendered.
Silence returned gradually.
Broken crystal covered the marble floor.
Ellen sobbed against Fay's shoulder.
“You're okay,” Fay whispered. “You're okay.”
Vincent stood several feet away.
Blood darkened his shirt near his ribs.
Fay saw it.
“Vincent.”
He looked down.
A bullet had grazed his side.
“It's nothing.”
Fay stared at him.
Then, despite everything, she laughed shakily through tears.
“You say that often.”
For the first time since she had known him, Vincent Cross smiled.
Only slightly.
Then his knees nearly buckled.
Fay caught his arm.
“Doctor!”
As Marco called for help, Rourke lifted his head from the floor.
His face was bloody.
But he smiled.
Vincent noticed.
“What?”
Rourke laughed quietly.
“You think this is over?”
Marco grabbed him.
Rourke looked directly at Vincent.
“I wasn't selling your empire to the Volkovs.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“I was buying protection.”
“From who?”
Rourke's smile widened.
“Your father.”
Vincent froze.
Fay looked at him.
Everyone in the Cross organization knew Dominic Cross had died five years earlier.
There had been a funeral.
A coffin.
A grave.
But Rourke laughed again.
“You inherited nothing, Vincent.”
His voice became almost gleeful.
“You've only been keeping his chair warm.”
And beneath the broken chandelier, the victory vanished.
Because the betrayal inside Vincent's empire suddenly had a name far more dangerous than Anthony Rourke.
Dominic Cross.
May you like
Vincent's supposedly dead father.
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