Chapter 7 - The Trap at the Port
The peace was broken four days later by a single phone call that arrived at three in the morning.
I was awakened by the heavy sound of boots marching down the hallway. I pulled on my robe and stepped out into the corridor just as Luca was strapping a concealed leather holster over his black tactical shirt.
Gavin, his chief security officer, stood beside him, holding a encrypted tablet showing a satellite map of the city's commercial port.
"What's happening?" I asked, my heart sinking as I saw the cold, murderous expression on Luca's face.
"A shipment arrived at Pier 42," Luca said, his voice flat and hard as steel. "Vance's men have blocked the dockyards. They've seized two of my vessels and taken six of my men hostage."
"It's a trap, Luca," I said instinctively, stepping into his path. "They couldn't defeat you at the house, so they're pulling you out into the open."
"I know it's a trap," Luca replied, not stopping as he checked the magazine of his sidearm with a sharp, metallic click. "But if I do not answer a direct challenge at my docks, every family in the state will think I have gone soft because I hired a nanny."
He stopped in front of me, his hand coming up to hold the back of my neck, his grip firm and warm.
"Stay in the panic room with Mateo until I return," he ordered softly. "Do not open the door for anyone except Gavin or myself."
"Promise me you'll come back," I demanded, grabbing the front of his shirt, my fingers digging into the heavy fabric. "Promise me, Luca."
Luca looked down at my hands on his chest, a faint, dark smile touching his lips. "I always finish my business, Claire."
He pressed a fierce, hard kiss to my forehead, turned, and disappeared down the stairs with eight armed men behind him.
The next five hours were the longest of my life.
Mateo and I sat in the steel-lined panic room, the monitors showing only the silent, rainy grounds of the estate. I tried to play games with him, tried to read stories, but my mind was stuck on Pier 42, imaging the dark dockyards, the sound of gunfire, and Luca standing in the middle of a warzone.
By eight in the morning, the rain had stopped, replaced by a thick, freezing fog that rolled off the ocean, obscuring the security cameras.
Suddenly, the screen showing the main foyer flickered and went black.
Then Screen 2 went dark. Then Screen 3.
"Claire?" Mateo asked, looking up from his drawing. "Why did the TVs turn off?"
Cold terror swept through my veins, freezing the blood in my heart. The security feed hadn't crashed; the fiber-optic lines had been cut.
Someone was inside the house.
I pulled Mateo off the bench, pushing him toward the deep storage alcove at the back of the panic room. "Mateo, listen to me very carefully. Get behind those boxes and do not make a single sound. No matter what you hear. Do you promise me?"
The boy's eyes were wide with fear, but he nodded frantically, crawling behind the heavy plastic crates and curling into a tiny ball.
I stepped back toward the steel door, my hands searching the emergency kit on the wall until my fingers closed around a heavy steel flashlight.
The heavy mechanical lock on the panic room door let out a sharp, unexpected hiss.
The door creaked open six inches.
I raised the flashlight, my muscles coiled like a spring, ready to strike whoever stepped through the gap.
"Claire!" a voice gasped.
Gavin stumbled into the room, his black tactical vest torn, blood streaming from a deep cut above his eye. He slammed the heavy door shut behind him, engaging the manual iron deadbolt with a desperate shove.
"Gavin!" I dropped the flashlight, rushing to support him as he collapsed against the wall. "Where is Luca? What happened?"
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Gavin looked up at me, his face pale, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. "It... it was a setup. Vance wasn't at the docks. He sent a decoy crew..."
Gavin swallowed hard, his bloody hand grabbing my sleeve. "Vance came here, Claire. He's downstairs right now with ten men. And Luca... Luca was hit on the highway."
