Chapter 1 - The Darkened Ballroom
The click of two dozen safety catches disengaging was the only sound that cut through the sudden pitch-black suffocating the Grand Imperial Hotel. Around me, two hundred hardened mobsters, smugglers, and cartel bosses scrambled for their holsters. Tables overturned with shattering crashes of crystal glasses and silver platters. Men cursed under their breath, blind and cornered.
Against my neck, Daisy’s tiny arms squeezed with surprising strength. Her warm cheek pressed against my throat, and I felt the rapid, fluttery thump of her heart. A little girl in a yellow dress surrounded by Chicago’s deadliest predators.
“Mister Teddy,” she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to fracture the cold ice that had guarded my chest for nearly a decade. “Is it bedtime? Why did the sun go night-night?”
“Keep your eyes closed, Daisy,” I muttered, keeping my voice dead even, stripped of the rising fury threatening to tear through my ribs. “We’re playing a game of hide-and-seek.”
“I’m good at hiding,” she snuffled, burying her face into my collar.
Beside me, Marco, my most loyal enforcer, materialized out of the shadows. His silhouette was massive, a silhouette I knew better than my own reflection. “Boss, north and south exits are jammed. Kill switches pulled from the main breaker downstairs. This wasn’t an accident. It’s a targeted blackout.”
“I know,” I growled, slipping one arm securely beneath Daisy’s legs to hoist her higher while my free hand pulled my matte-black pistol from beneath my jacket. “Marcus slipped out right before the breaker tripped. He’s the one who turned the lights off.”
“Marcus?” Marco’s voice cracked with disbelief. Marcus Bell had been my right hand since our street days, the calm strategist to my ruthless hammer. “He swore an oath on your father’s blood, Dom.”
“He lied.” I looked down at the crumpled photograph tucked into my breast pocket. Emily’s smile stared back at me in my mind’s eye. My sister, whom I had mourned for five agonizing years. The woman I had wept over, presumed buried in an unmarked grave by rival syndicates, was alive. And Marcus had kept her hidden.
A sudden burst of gunfire erupted from the backstage wings. The sharp, deafening staccato of automatic rifles shredded the velvet curtains. Screams echoed across the room as terrified guests hit the carpet.
“Mommy!” Daisy cried out, jerking violently in my grip. She raised the pink plastic microphone to her mouth, completely oblivious to the danger, and screamed into the speaker. “MOMMY! WE ARE OVER HERE! MISTER TEDDY HAS GUN-GUN!”
A high-pitched mechanical screech from the toy microphone cut straight through the gunfire, echoing through the hollow darkness.
“Get down!” Marco roared, lunging forward with a ballistic shield as a spray of bullets chipped the marble pillar right above our heads.
Dust rained down on Daisy’s yellow tulle dress. She didn’t cry; instead, she slapped her hands over her ears and scowled furiously. “Mean men! No loud noises in the hotel! That’s against the rules!”
I couldn’t help the vicious smirk that twisted my lips. Emily’s fiery spirit lived entirely inside this three-foot-tall princess. “Cover me, Marco. Clear a path to the kitchen service elevator. We don’t leave this building without Emily.”
“What about the council bosses?” Marco asked, returning fire into the darkness with lethal, rhythmic taps. “They’ll tear each other apart without you.”
“Let them,” I snapped, moving swiftly along the shadow of the perimeter wall, shielding Daisy completely with my wide frame. “My family comes first tonight. Move!”
We pushed through the panicked crowd toward the backstage double doors. A shadowy figure lunged from behind a golden drapery, knife raised. Before the attacker could take another step, I stepped in, delivered a brutal kick to his knee, and slammed my elbow into his jaw. He dropped like dead weight.
Daisy peeked from behind my shoulder, eyes wide. “Whoa. You squished him!”
“He was very sleepy,” I replied without breaking stride.
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Through the heavy backstage doors, the smell of cordite grew thicker. Ahead of us lay the private dressing rooms and the loading bay. On the floor, dragged across the polished tiles, was a smear of fresh blood and a single drop of yellow ribbon matching Daisy’s pigtails.
My sister had been here seconds ago. And Marcus was running out of time.
