Chapter 4 - The Fall and the Fortress
""Well, look at this family portrait!"" Marco shouted through the driving rain, raising his silver-plated automatic. His bespoke designer suit was drenched, his slicked-back hair falling across his arrogant face. ""Desmond Hayes playing the savior for a two-bit filing clerk! You shouldn't have skipped your own rehearsal preparations, Desmond. Isabella is furious!""
""Your sister is an amateur, Marco,"" Desmond replied, his body shifting subtly to shield Norah. ""And your father is a dead man who doesn't know it yet.""
""Shoot them both!"" Marco roared.
""Now!"" Desmond shouted.
He hooked his strong arm around Norah’s waist, driving off the wet ledge with all the power in his legs. Norah cried out as the black void of the alleyway opened beneath them for one terrifying second. Gunfire erupted behind them, rounds snapping through the cold air like angry hornets.
They hit the gravel of the adjacent roof hard. Desmond twisted his body in mid-air, taking the brunt of the impact against his shoulders and ribs. They skidded across the wet stones, coming to a halt against a heavy metal exhaust duct. Norah gasped in agony as her injured arm struck the ground, but Desmond was already moving, hauling her to her feet before Marco’s men could realign their sights through the rain.
Desmond fired three suppressive rounds across the gap, forcing the gunmen to duck behind the parapet, before kicking open the roof access hatch of the laundry building. He pulled Norah down inside, slamming the heavy iron hatch shut and sliding the rusted deadbolt into place.
They tumbled down the dark maintenance stairs into the cavernous, quiet belly of the abandoned facility. The air was stagnant, smelling of detergent and decay, but the rain was gone.
Desmond leaned against a rusted concrete pillar, catching his breath. He looked down at Norah, who was sitting on the bottom step, trembling uncontrollably from shock, pain, and hypothermia. Without a word, he pulled off his sodden dress shirt, leaving him in a dark tactical undershirt, and wrapped the dry undersides of his heavy coat around her shoulders.
""Are you hit?"" he demanded, inspecting her bandaged arm.
""No,"" she shuddered, her teeth chattering violently. ""Just... bruised. Desmond... they know you know now. It’s over. You can’t go back to your penthouse. You can’t go back to the office.""
""I don't intend to,"" he said, pulling out a burner phone he kept sealed in waterproof plastic inside his waistband. He punched in a ten-digit encrypted number.
The phone clicked on the second ring. ""Speak,"" a gravelly voice answered.
""Frank,"" Desmond said. ""Activate Protocol Zero. Lock down the estate in the Catskills. Move all liquid reserves from the primary accounts to the offshore mirrors. And send an armored transport to the west exit of the Old Mill Laundry on 4th.""
""Boss?"" Frank, Desmond’s most loyal security captain, sounded stunned. ""The Rossi wedding is in forty-eight hours. Isabella's people are already setting up the reception at the Plaza—""
""The wedding is canceled,"" Desmond interrupted, his tone chillingly definitive. ""And Carlo Rossi is a marked man. If Vincenzo Cole approaches any Hayes property, put a bullet in his head on sight. Move.""
He ended the call and slipped the phone away. He turned back to Norah, extending a hand to pull her up. She took it, her slender fingers swallowed by his grip. As she rose, she stumbled slightly, her face brushing against his chest. Desmond didn't let go. He held her close against him, feeling the rapid, fragile beat of her heart against his ribs.
""For five years,"" Desmond murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard it, ""you sat three feet away from me every day, carrying this secret. You carried the weight of my brother's murder and your father's death all by yourself.""
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Norah looked up at him through her wet eyelashes, her eyes shining in the shadows. ""I had to be sure, Desmond. I had to know if the man I was falling for was a monster or Julian’s brother.""
Desmond froze. The confession hung between them in the cold darkness of the empty warehouse, heavier and more dangerous than any weapon they possessed. Before he could speak, the rumble of an armored diesel engine vibrated through the loading bay doors. The extraction team had arrived.
