Chapter 7 - The Shadow in the Rain
Two days passed.
The suspension of Derek Lawson sent shockwaves through Precinct 12, but as Gabriel predicted, it did not stop the man. Stripped of his gun and badge, Derek spent forty-eight hours drowning his rage in cheap bourbon at a cop bar in South Boston.
On Friday night, a torrential rainstorm battered the city. Thunder rumbled across the sky, shaking the windows of the Ashford mansion in Beacon Hill.
Harper stood in the warm kitchen on the first floor, preparing a cup of black tea for Gabriel. She had adjusted to the rhythm of the house over the past forty-eight hours. She cleaned during the day, monitored Frank’s healing shoulder, and spent her evenings talking to Noah on the encrypted video phone Gabriel had provided.
She picked up the silver tray and carried it up the grand staircase toward Gabriel’s private third-floor quarters.
The house was strangely quiet tonight. Most of Gabriel’s security detail had been dispatched to the docks to handle a sudden cargo dispute, leaving only two guards at the main gate and one patrolling the perimeter gardens.
Harper pushed open the door to Gabriel’s private suite. The room was dark, lit only by the blue flash of lightning outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Mr. Ashford?" she called out softly, holding the tray. "I brought your tea."
No answer came.
She walked deeper into the room, setting the tray down on the coffee table near the leather sofa. As she turned to leave, a shadow suddenly detached itself from behind the heavy velvet curtains.
A hand, large, rough, and violently familiar, clamped hard over Harper’s mouth from behind.
Harper gasped, but the sound was strangled instantly. A iron arm wrapped around her waist, slamming her back against a broad chest. The distinct smell of cheap bourbon and stale tobacco flooded her senses.
"Missed me, baby?" a cruel, raspy voice whispered into her ear.
Derek.
Harper’s eyes dilated with sheer panic. She thrashed violently, kicking her feet, trying to drive her heel into his shins. But Derek was too heavy, his grip like steel cuffs around her body. He dragged her backward into the darkest corner of the room, pressing a cold metal object against her neck.
It was a sharp hunting knife.
"Don't make a sound," Derek hissed, his warm, booze-laden breath burning her cheek. "I swore I’d find you, Harper. You thought you could run to a mobster? You thought some high-society criminal could keep you from me?"
"Derek... please," Harper managed to choke out through his fingers. "Noah... leave Noah alone—"
"Noah is mine! You are mine!" Derek snarled, pressing the flat of the blade against her cheekbone, right over her old scar. "I lost my job because of you! Captain suspended me! My whole life is ruined because you couldn't just keep your mouth shut and stay in the apartment!"
He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so she was forced to look at his bloodshot, crazed eyes in the darkness.
"We're leaving," Derek grunted, pulling her toward the private balcony doors that led to the fire escape. "I have a car waiting two blocks away. You're coming with me, and if you scream, I swear to God I’ll go to that South Boston brownstone and put a bullet through your brother’s head before the guards even know I’m there."
Harper’s heart stopped. The threat to Noah paralyzed her entirely. Her body went limp, her fight evaporating under the absolute terror of her brother being harmed.
"That's a good girl," Derek sneered, dragging her toward the door. "You always were obedient when it mattered."
Suddenly, the lights in the suite flickered once and turned completely on, illuminating the room in brilliant, stark white light.
"Put the knife down, Lawson."
Derek froze. Harper gasped as she saw Gabriel standing by the entrance of the suite.
Gabriel was dressed in a dark silk shirt, his hands resting casually inside his trouser pockets. He was completely unarmed. He didn't look angry; his face was a mask of cold, terrifying calm.
"Ashford," Derek growled, shifting his grip on Harper and pulling her closer, using her body as a human shield while pointing the knife at Gabriel. "Stay back! Step away from the door or I’ll open her throat right here!"
Gabriel didn't step back. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward.
"You broke into my home," Gabriel said softly, his tone almost conversational. "You threatened my staff. And you brought a knife to a house that I own."
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"She’s my wife!" Derek screamed, his arm trembling with rage. "This is domestic police business! You have no right to interfere!"
"She signed a contract with me," Gabriel corrected, his obsidian eyes locking onto Derek’s face. "Which means every hair on her head belongs to my protection. And you, Detective, have just made the last mistake of your very short life."
