Chapter 6 - The Ambush at the Canal
The Chicago winter arrived in late November with a brutal, freezing blizzard that swept across Lake Michigan, dumping sixteen inches of heavy, wet snow over the city streets in less than twelve hours.
At 9:30 on a dark, howling Tuesday evening, June was driving her white catering van down the deserted industrial road along the canal, returning from a private dinner event at Cormac’s river dock premises.
The road was an ice rink. The heavy snow swirled through her headlight beams like a wall of white feathers, reducing her visibility to less than ten feet.
Suddenly, a massive black SUV pulled out from an unlit side alley, slamming its broad iron bumper directly into the side of her catering van.
The heavy impact sent June’s van spinning wildly across the ice. The steering wheel whipped out of her hands, the tires lost all traction, and the van crashed violently into a concrete snowbank beside the iron canal fence, coming to a dead stop with a deafening crunch of crumpling metal and shattering glass.
June’s head slammed hard against the steering wheel. Her vision exploded into bright white sparks, followed instantly by a sickening, throbbing darkness.
Groaning with pain, she wiped a warm trickle of blood from her forehead, her chest heaving as she fought to draw breath. Her seatbelt was jammed tight against her ribs.
Through the shattered driver's side window, she heard the heavy crunch of boots approaching through the deep snow.
Two men wearing dark ski masks pulled her crumpled driver's side door open with a sharp screech of metal.
“Get her out!” a harsh, accented voice shouted over the roaring wind. “Move! Before Riley’s escort sedans catch up!”
A heavy hand reached inside, grabbing June violently by the collar of her wool coat, pulling her clear out of the wreckage and dragging her across the freezing snow toward the idling black SUV.
June didn't scream. Even through the fog of her concussion, her kitchen instincts kicked in instantly. She pulled her right hand out of her coat pocket—still clutching the small, seven-inch heavy steel boning knife she always kept in her apron belt during night transports.
With a fierce, desperate scream, June swung the knife backward, plunging the steel blade deep into the thigh of the man holding her collar.
The man let out a agonizing shriek of pain, his grip releasing instantly as he collapsed into the snow, clutching his leg as blood gushed dark against the white drift.
The second man cursed wildly, pulling a heavy nickel-plated pistol from his jacket.
Before he could raise the weapon, two sharp, thunderous gunshots cracked through the howling blizzard wind.
The second gunman jerked violently, his body collapsing backward into the snowbank like a suit of empty clothes.
June fell to her knees in the freezing slush, shivering uncontrollably, her face covered in blood and snow, clutching her steel knife against her chest.
Through the white wall of the blizzard, a tall figure ran toward her—not a guard, not an associate, but Cormac himself. He had jumped out of his trailing security sedan before it had even come to a complete stop, running through the deep snow without his coat, his silver hair wild in the wind.
He dropped to his knees beside her, throwing his heavy suit jacket around her shivering shoulders, pulling her into his arms with a desperate, frantic strength that shook his entire frame.
“June! June!” Cormac roared over the storm, his hands wildly feeling her face, her neck, her arms for injuries. “Look at me! Look at me! God almighty, June!”
“I... I stabbed him, Cormac,” June gasped, her teeth chattering so violently she could barely form the words. “I... I protected my knife...”
Cormac pulled her face into his chest, burying his face in her blood-stained hair, his body trembling with a terrifying, primal fury that sent shockwaves through his men who were now surrounding the alley with drawn weapons.
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“I’ve got you, June,” Cormac sobbed into her hair, his voice breaking completely. “I’ve got you. Nobody touches you ever again. Nobody.”
He lifted her up into his broad arms as if she weighed nothing at all, carrying her away from the wreckage, away from the dead men in the snow, toward the warmth of his heated sedan.
