Chapter 3 – THE FIRE BREATHES AGAIN

The suppressed gunshot sounded like a sharp spit.

A bullet shattered the window of the vintage Aston Martin two feet from my head.

“Get down!” Vincent shoved me behind the heavy steel frame of the SUV, pulling Daniel’s bleeding body with us.

My heart battered against my ribs. I clamped my hands over my ears, squeezing my eyes shut as another bullet ricocheted off the concrete floor.

“Olivia,” Vincent’s voice was remarkably calm. He crouched beside me, checking his Glock. “Look at me.”

I opened my eyes. He was so close I could smell his expensive cologne mixed with the metallic scent of Daniel’s blood.

“Marco isn’t alone,” Vincent said quickly. “If he’s here, he brought his crew. I need to draw his fire. When I move, you take Daniel’s keys from his pocket and lock yourself inside the SUV. Do not open the doors for anyone but me.”

“What about Tyler?” I choked out, tears finally spilling over. “He’s upstairs!”

Vincent caught my chin, forcing me to look directly into his dark eyes.

“I protect what is mine,” he said fiercely. “And right now, you and your son are under my protection. I will get him.”

Before I could argue, Vincent stood up and fired three deafening shots toward the control panel.

Marco cursed and ducked behind a concrete pillar.

“Go!” Vincent yelled.

I scrambled forward on my hands and knees, my fingers slipping on the bloody floor as I reached into Daniel’s jacket pocket. I found the heavy key fob.

I grabbed the handle of the SUV, pulled myself inside, and slammed the lock button just as another bullet sparked against the reinforced door.

Outside, the garage was plunged into darkness. Vincent had shot out the main fuse box.

I huddled in the backseat, trembling in the pitch black.

The silence was agonizing. Only the ragged, shallow breathing of Daniel outside the car let me know I wasn’t alone.

Then, a faint, rhythmic sound echoed through the dark.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate footsteps walking toward the SUV.

“Vinny,” Marco’s voice echoed in the dark. It sounded casual, like a man ordering dinner. “You always were too emotional. Just like your mother. She thought she could buy her way out of our family. She thought Sinclair would keep her secret.”

Silence. Vincent didn’t take the bait.

“She didn’t just want to save Lily,” Marco continued, his voice moving closer. “She wanted to take the family ledgers. She was going to the feds, Vinny. Your father had to make a choice. The syndicate, or a disloyal wife.”

I covered my mouth with both hands to muffle my breathing.

Marco was rewriting history. He was blaming Vincent’s father for everything.

But Lily’s drawing… Lily had drawn Marco watching the fire.

Suddenly, my cell phone buzzed in my apron pocket.

The screen lit up the backseat like a beacon.

I scrambled to silence it, but the damage was done.

“Well, well,” Marco murmured. He was standing right outside the SUV.

I looked up through the tinted glass and saw his shadow. He raised his gun, aiming directly at my window.

BANG.

The gunshot came from across the garage.

Marco cried out in pain, dropping his weapon. He stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder.

Vincent stepped out from the shadows, his gun leveled at his uncle’s chest.

“It’s over, Marco,” Vincent said coldly.

But Marco just started laughing. He leaned against the concrete pillar, blood seeping through his fingers.

“You think you’ve won?” Marco sneered. “You think I came here tonight without an insurance policy?”

Vincent didn’t flinch. “Where’s the ledger you stole from the music box?”

Marco grinned, his teeth stained pink. “I didn’t steal it, Vinny. I gave it back to its rightful owner. The person who helped me tonight. The person who knew exactly where everything in this house was located.”

My blood ran cold.

Marco pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. He pressed the button.

“Natalie,” Marco said into the radio. “Do you have the boy?”

Static cracked. Then Natalie’s voice filled the garage, sharp and cruel.

“I have him, Marco. He’s sitting right here in the kitchen.”

My world stopped.

I slammed my hands against the car window. “Tyler!” I screamed.

Vincent’s gun wavered for the first time. He stared at the walkie-talkie, his jaw clenched so hard I thought it would shatter.

“Vincent,” Natalie’s voice purred over the radio. “Throw your gun away. Or I’m going to throw this little boy’s asthma inhaler into the fireplace.”

I unlocked the SUV and scrambled out. “Don’t touch him! Please!”

Marco smiled down at me.

Then he reached into his coat pocket with his good arm. He didn’t pull out a gun.

He pulled out a small, tarnished silver watch.

He tossed it onto the ground at my feet.

“Pick it up, Olivia,” Marco whispered.

I stared at the watch. The world spun.

I knew that watch. It had a crack across the glass face.

It was the watch my husband, Mark, was wearing the night he walked out on us eight years ago.

“Answer one,” Marco chuckled darkly. “Open two. Did you really think your husband left you because he didn’t love you?”

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