Chapter 2 - The Shadow of the Colazo Empire
The Salt Line was cleared in less than four minutes.
Patrons were ushered out the side doors by armed men who offered no explanations and tolerated no questions. Gerald Moss stood near the brass-trimmed host stand, his face as white as his linen napkins, clutching a bottle of expensive champagne like a shield. His knees trembled as he watched six men in dark coats clear a path through his dining room.
Dr. Harrison Vance arrived in three minutes and ten seconds. He didn't ask questions; he simply knelt beside Rafe, opening a black medical bag and assessing Mave’s condition with practiced, silent speed.
"Right scapula is fractured," Vance said briskly, cutting open the shoulder of Mave’s black uniform with surgical shears to reveal dark purple bruising spreading rapidly across her skin. "Trauma to the back of her ribcage. Possible hairline fracture to the spine, but her pulse is holding. She’s going into shock, Rafe. We need to move her now."
"Bring her to the estate," Rafe commanded, standing up to his full six-foot-two height.
Vance paused, looking up in shock. "The estate? Rafe, she needs an emergency room—"
"My estate has a full surgical suite and six trauma nurses on retainer," Rafe said, his voice flat, absolute, and devoid of debate. "She isn't going to a public hospital where whoever sent that assassin can finish the job. She saved my sister. She stays under my roof."
Rafe didn't wait for Vance to answer. He reached down, carefully slid his large hands beneath Mave’s neck and knees, and lifted her off the marble floor. She weighed almost nothing—a startling realization that made his chest tighten again. Her uniform hid a frame that was dangerously thin, the result of months of skipped meals and endless double shifts.
As Rafe walked toward the rear exit, his lead security captain, Julian, stepped into his path. Julian’s face was dark with adrenaline and shame.
"Boss," Julian said quietly. "The shooter is in the back van. He’s wearing a server's vest from an agency downtown. It was a hired hit out of Providence. The Moretti family."
"Keep him alive until I get back," Rafe said without stopping. "I want every name involved in planning this before the sun comes up."
"Understood," Julian nodded. Then his eyes flicked down to the waitress cradled in Rafe's arms, her dark hair spilling over his suit jacket. "Boss... Gerald Moss, the floor manager. My guys checked the security feed from twenty minutes ago. She tried to warn him about the intruder. Moss told her to shut up and get back to work."
Rafe stopped at the threshold of the glass double doors. The cold rain of a Boston autumn beat against the glass outside. Slowly, Rafe turned his head, his winter-blue eyes locking onto Gerald Moss, who was cowering behind the host stand.
"Julian," Rafe said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Shut this restaurant down. Buy the building by midnight. And make sure Mr. Moss never works in this city again. If he attempts to leave Massachusetts, break both of his legs."
"Consider it done," Julian replied without a blink.
Rafe carried Mave out into the driving rain, stepping into the back of a bulletproof Maybach. Sienna was already sitting in the leather seat, crying softly, clutching a silk blanket around her shoulders. As Rafe settled Mave onto the bench seat beside him, Sienna reached out, gently taking Mave’s cold, calloused hand in hers.
"She didn't even know me, Rafe," Sienna sobbed, looking at her brother. "She didn't know who you were. She didn't know who I was. She just... she just stepped in front of it."
Rafe didn't answer right away. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out the faded photograph he had retrieved from the floor. He stared at the little boy with the messy brown hair and the threadbare teddy bear, then looked down at Mave’s still face.
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"She knew what it meant to protect someone," Rafe murmured, his thumb tracing the worn edge of the photo. "Which means someone is waiting for her."
He pulled out his phone and dialed a private line. "Find out where Mave Donovan lives," Rafe ordered his intelligence chief before the other person could even speak. "Find out who is in her house right now. If there's a child there, send a unit to guard the door. Nobody touches that house until I arrive."
