Chapter 5 - The Glass Storm and the Safehouse
"Get down!"
Christian roared the command, lunging across the table and physically throwing his body over Clara to shield her from the cascading shards of glass.
Crack. Crack.
High-caliber rifle fire chewed through the bakery’s exterior walls, ripping chunks of plaster from the ceiling and shattering the pastry display case. Cream puffs and éclairs burst across the floor like tiny landmines of sugar and cream.
"Sniper across the street! Rooftop!" one of the bodyguards shouted, drawing a suppressed automatic weapon and firing a return volley through the remaining shards of the window.
"Move! To the vehicles, now!" Christian commanded, scooping Clara up into his arms while keeping her head tucked tightly against his chest.
He grabbed Emma by the arm with his free hand, his grip iron-clad but steady. "You’re coming. Whether you want to or not, you just became a witness to a syndicate hit. If you stay in this neighborhood for five more minutes, the Russos will put a bullet in your head just to tie up loose ends."
Emma didn't argue. Survival instinct overrode indignation.
She let him pull her through the shattered door of the bakery and out into the freezing, rain-swept Manhattan street. The wind whipped her braided hair across her face as bullets ricocheted off the armored chassis of the lead black SUV.
"In! Get in!"
A bodyguard shoved open the heavy rear door of the vehicle. Christian bundled Clara inside, then practically hauled Emma in after them before diving in himself and slamming the door shut.
The interior of the SUV was a fortress of dark leather, glowing tactical displays, and secure satellite phones.
"Drive! Floor it!" Christian ordered the driver.
The SUV surged forward with a violent roar of horsepower, tearing away from the curb just as a hail of bullets chewed up the asphalt where they had been standing seconds before. Tires squealed, throwing up sheets of rain as they rocketed into the labyrinth of downtown New York.
Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was thick with adrenaline and silence.
Clara was shaking slightly, clinging to the lapel of Christian’s coat. Christian wrapped one arm around her, his eyes fixed straight ahead, breathing heavily. Then he turned his gaze to Emma, who was sitting in the corner of the leather seat, trying to catch her breath, her hands still trembling from the shock.
"You saved her life," Christian said quietly, his voice devoid of its earlier menace, replaced by a strange, heavy gravity.
"I gave a kid a hot chocolate," Emma muttered, rubbing her arm where his grip had left a faint red mark. "I didn't sign up to be caught in a mafia war."
"No, you didn't," Christian admitted, pulling a secure burner phone from his pocket. "And for that, I apologize. But as I said, you are tied to this now. Marco gave you up as part of the setup. If the Russos know you were there and spoke with her, they will hunt you down to find out what she told you."
Emma’s breath caught. The reality of the situation crashed over her like a tidal wave. She was just an ordinary woman who baked rolls at 2:00 AM. Now she was a target.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice tight.
May you like
Christian dialed a number on his encrypted phone, his eyes cold as winter steel.
"I am going to find the rat who betrayed my family," Christian said softly. "And then, Miss Brooks, I am going to ensure you and my daughter are protected. Permanently."
