Chapter 3 - The Trap is Sprung
The front door of the duplex blew inward with a deafening crash as two of Vanessa’s hired mercenaries kicked it off its hinges. They stepped into the dimly lit hallway, weapons raised, expecting a terrified woman and a confused child.
Instead, they found Daniel Whitmore standing in the center of the living room, calmly pouring a cup of tap water into a glass, illuminated by the flickering porch light.
“What the—” the lead mercenary grunted, lowering his barrel slightly in sheer confusion. “Mr. Whitmore? You’re supposed to be at the hospital.”
“And you’re supposed to be smarter than taking orders from a common thief,” Daniel replied smoothly. He didn't even flinch as the second operative raised a Taser toward his chest.
Before the operative could pull the trigger, Thomas dropped silently from the ceiling rafters behind them, slamming the heavy butt of his firearm into the second mercenary’s skull. The man collapsed like a sack of potatoes onto the hardwood floor.
The lead mercenary whipped around, but Thomas was already there, sweeping his legs out from under him and pinning him flat with a knee pressed hard against his windpipe.
Daniel walked over, looking down at the gasping operative with absolute disdain. “Who sent you? Was it Vanessa?”
The man choked for air, staring up in terror. “I... I don't know names! We just take orders from an intermediary account wired from Bel Air!”
“Incorrect answer,” Thomas pressed harder. “Try again.”
“Okay, okay! It was Miss Hart! She found out the housekeeper was taken to West Hollywood! She ordered us to eliminate any loose ends at this address!”
Daniel straightened his tie, a bitter, humorless smile touching his lips. “Thank you for confirming. Thomas, tie them up and leave them for the local precinct. We’re going back to Bel Air.”
“Mr. Whitmore, walking back into that mansion right now is playing right into her hands,” Thomas warned as they walked out to the SUV, where Noah sat safely buckled in the back, sleeping peacefully against a travel pillow. “She has local judges, corrupt board members, and security loyal to her payroll.”
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“Let her rely on her corrupt friends,” Daniel said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Because by the time we walk through those front doors, she won't have an empire left to protect.”
With a roar of the engine, the SUV sped away from the East LA safe house, heading straight back toward the gleaming gates of the Beverly Hills estate. But this time, Daniel wasn't returning as an unsuspecting fiancé. He was returning as the head of the Whitmore dynasty—and he brought an army with him.
