Chapter 2 - THE GUN BEHIND HIS BACK
Marco saw Caruso’s reflection in the rain-covered window of the nearest SUV.
His entire body went still.
He did not release me.
“Vincent,” he said quietly.
Caruso kept the pistol trained on him.
Rain ran down his face without changing his expression.
“You were never supposed to leave this driveway.”
Isabella forced herself upright behind the pillar.
“You traitorous animal.”
Caruso’s eyes shifted toward her.
“You should have died first.”
Isabella stepped between him and Marco.
Marco caught her coat with one hand and dragged her back while still supporting my head with the other.
“Put the gun down!”
Caruso smiled.
“Your guards answer to me.”
Two men near the front steps raised their rifles.
For one terrible second, I thought they were joining him.
Then they aimed at Caruso.
Mateo Russo and Eli Grant emerged from opposite sides of the SUV, weapons steady.
“Drop it, Vincent,” Mateo said.
Caruso’s confidence flickered.
I reached inside my soaked uniform and pulled out the security keycard.
My fingers barely worked.
I pressed it against Marco’s chest.
“He arranged the camera failures.”
Marco looked down at the card.
Caruso fired.
Mateo’s weapon answered almost instantly.
Caruso dropped behind a stone planter as bullets struck the mansion wall. Isabella screamed. Marco bent over me and pulled his mother down beside us.
More DeLuca guards rushed from the east wing.
Caruso disappeared through a service passage near the garage.
“Do not chase him alone!” Marco shouted. “Seal the estate.”
Then his attention returned to me.
My body had begun shaking violently.
“Ambulance is four minutes out,” Eli said.
“Four minutes is too long.”
Marco slid one arm beneath my knees and lifted me.
“The medical room,” Isabella ordered. “Now.”
He carried me through the foyer where he had humiliated me three days earlier.
Water and blood marked the marble behind us.
House staff pressed themselves against the walls as Marco shouted for towels, oxygen, and the physician assigned to Isabella’s care.
Dr. Samuel Hart met us inside the estate’s medical suite.
“Put her here.”
Marco lowered me onto the treatment table but refused to step away.
Dr. Hart cut through the wet fabric of my sleeve.
“How many times?”
“Five,” Marco said.
“Are you certain?”
“I counted.”
The doctor examined me quickly.
“Two appear to be through-and-through. One may have struck the vest panel.”
Marco stared at him.
“What vest?”
I tried to answer, but pain swallowed the words.
Isabella did it for me.
“I made Lena wear a reinforced underlayer beneath her uniform after she found the camera records.”
Marco turned toward his mother.
“You knew there was a threat?”
“I suspected one.”
“And you involved her?”
“I trusted her.”
“You used her.”
Isabella slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
“She threw herself in front of me while the men you trusted opened the gate for assassins. Do not stand over her and blame me because you failed to see what was inside your own house.”
Marco said nothing.
Dr. Hart inserted an IV.
“Her blood pressure is dropping. She needs a trauma center.”
Marco pulled out his phone.
“The helicopter.”
“Weather is too severe.”
“Then clear the highway.”
Within minutes, an armored ambulance entered the sealed estate.
Marco climbed inside with me.
Dr. Hart blocked him.
“There is no room.”
“Make room.”
“You will interfere with treatment.”
Marco looked ready to remove him physically.
I opened my eyes.
“Stay with your mother.”
He leaned closer.
“My mother is alive because of you.”
“Then keep her that way.”
The doors closed between us.
At Mercy Heights Medical Center, surgeons worked for seven hours.
One bullet had fractured my shoulder.
Another had entered my side and missed an artery by less than an inch.
The protective panel Isabella had ordered stopped the shot aimed at my chest, though the impact cracked two ribs.
By morning, I was alive.
Barely.
Marco remained in the waiting room the entire night.
He did not change his wet clothes.
He did not take calls.
He sat with my silver necklace wrapped around his fist because a nurse had removed it before surgery.
Isabella watched him from a wheelchair.
“You called her nobody,” she said.
Marco stared at the operating-room doors.
“I was wrong.”
“That word is too small.”
He closed his eyes.
“Then give me a larger one.”
“Coward.”
He looked at her.
“You were afraid she mattered. So you made certain she knew she did not.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“You think this is about affection?”
“No. I think it is about shame.”
Isabella leaned closer.
“Lena sees you clearly, and she never asked for anything. That frightens you more than an enemy with a gun.”
Before Marco could answer, Mateo entered the waiting room carrying a laptop.
“We recovered the camera archive.”
Marco stood.
“Where is Caruso?”
“Gone.”
“Who helped him?”
Mateo placed the laptop on the table.
“That is the problem.”
Security footage showed Caruso entering the estate archive on five nights.
Each time, he used Marco’s personal access code.
Not a duplicate.
Not a stolen guard credential.
Marco’s code.
“Only three people know that sequence,” Marco said.
“You, Vincent, and your mother?”
Isabella shook her head.
“I never knew it.”
Mateo opened another file.
“There was a fourth person.”
The screen showed Marco’s younger brother, Adrian DeLuca, standing beside Caruso in the garage two nights before the ambush.
May you like
Adrian looked directly into the camera.
Then he reached up and shut it off.
