Chapter 3 - THE GIRL EVERYONE WANTED
Nathan had spent most of his adult life making dangerous men reconsider bad decisions.
But when Charles Whitmore demanded Emma, Nathan experienced something he had rarely felt.
Not fear for himself.
Something worse.
The knowledge that every violent instinct inside him could still fail to protect the person who mattered most.
“You're not getting anywhere near her,” Nathan said.
Whitmore sighed.
“You still believe this is about what you want.”
“Come through my front door and find out.”
“I don't need to.”
The line went dead.
Caleb was already moving.
“East security team is responding. South cameras are gone. Two vehicles stopped outside the perimeter. One came through.”
Nathan climbed the stairs two at a time.
“Get Emma.”
Rachel followed him.
Vivian grabbed his sleeve.
“Don't use the main hallway.”
Nathan pulled free.
“You don't give orders in my house.”
“They know the house.”
“So do I.”
“No.”
Vivian’s expression turned desperate.
“They know the old house.”
That stopped him.
“What?”
“Your father renovated this property in 1996. There are service passages that aren't on the current plans.”
Rachel stared at her.
“You knew?”
“I knew some.”
Caleb swore under his breath.
A crash sounded somewhere upstairs.
Then two sharp gunshots.
Emma screamed.
Nathan ran.
He reached the library in seconds.
Dr. Patel had pulled Emma behind a heavy desk.
One of Nathan's security men lay wounded in the hallway.
Another was firing toward the foyer.
Nathan dropped beside Emma.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head violently.
“Daddy, what's happening?”
“We're leaving.”
Rachel appeared in the doorway.
Emma saw her.
For one second, everything else disappeared from the child’s face.
Confusion.
Hope.
Fear.
Then she looked at Nathan.
“Is she really my mom?”
Rachel stopped.
Nathan wished he could protect Emma from the answer.
He couldn't.
Rachel knelt.
“No, sweetheart.”
Emma stared.
Rachel's voice shook.
“But I loved you from the first night I held you.”
Emma’s chin trembled.
“Then who is my mom?”
“Her name was Elena.”
“Was?”
Rachel’s eyes filled.
Nathan intervened.
“We'll talk about everything when we're safe.”
A bullet shattered glass in the foyer.
Caleb shouted, “Now!”
Vivian led them behind a bookshelf in Nathan's father’s study.
She pressed a hidden latch.
A section of paneling opened.
Nathan stared at her.
“How many secrets did my father build into this place?”
“More than you want to know.”
They entered a narrow passage.
Caleb remained behind for ten seconds, directing security, then joined them and sealed the door.
The passage descended.
Emma clung to Nathan’s hand.
Rachel stayed close on the other side.
Vivian walked first.
Nathan watched her carefully.
“You lead us into a trap and you die first.”
Vivian did not turn.
“Fair.”
They emerged in an old wine cellar beneath the east wing.
A tunnel continued beyond it.
Caleb checked his phone.
“No signal.”
Vivian pointed ahead.
“This comes out near the carriage house.”
Rachel stopped.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
“Whitmore knows about the carriage house.”
Vivian looked confused.
“How?”
“Because this isn't the first time I've been inside this tunnel.”
Nathan stared.
Rachel touched the wall.
“Seven years ago, they brought me through here after the crash.”
Nathan’s blood went cold.
“This house?”
“For one night.”
“You were here?”
“Sedated. Barely conscious.”
Nathan had slept upstairs that night.
He had probably walked across the floors believing his wife was dead while she lay somewhere beneath him.
Rachel continued.
“I remember voices.”
“Whose?”
“One was Whitmore.”
She swallowed.
“The other was your father’s attorney. Samuel Price.”
Nathan knew Samuel.
He had handled the Holloway estate after Edward died.
He had attended Rachel’s funeral.
He had stood beside Nathan at Luke's funeral too.
“Samuel retired five years ago.”
“He didn't retire.”
Vivian sounded grim.
“He disappeared.”
Emma tugged Nathan’s sleeve.
“Daddy?”
He looked down.
She was holding something.
A silver chain.
A small oval locket hung from it.
“Where did you get that?”
“It was on the floor.”
Rachel gasped.
She took it gently.
“Elena's.”
Emma stared at her.
“My mother's?”
Rachel opened the locket.
Inside was a tiny photograph.
A younger Luke.
Beside him stood a dark-haired woman holding a newborn.
Emma.
Nathan felt the world tilt again.
Luke’s smile in the photograph was unlike anything Nathan remembered from his brother’s final years.
Happy.
Completely unguarded.
Emma touched the woman’s face.
“That's her?”
Rachel nodded.
“Elena Marquez.”
Emma stared for several seconds.
“She looks like me.”
She did.
The eyes.
The chin.
Even the shape of her eyebrows.
Emma closed the locket.
Then whispered, “Did Uncle Luke love me?”
Nathan answered.
“Yes.”
He did not need evidence.
Luke had hidden an envelope knowing it might someday protect her.
That was enough.
A sound echoed through the tunnel.
Footsteps.
Caleb raised his weapon.
“Move.”
They hurried forward.
At the next junction Vivian stopped.
“Left goes to the carriage house.”
“And right?” Nathan asked.
“An old storm drain.”
Rachel said, “Right.”
Vivian disagreed.
“It floods.”
“Whitmore expects left.”
Nathan made the decision.
“Right.”
The tunnel narrowed until Nathan had to duck.
Cold water covered the floor.
Emma slipped once.
Nathan lifted her.
“You don't have to carry me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I can walk.”
“Tonight I get to be annoying.”
Despite everything, Emma almost smiled.
Then Rachel suddenly grabbed Nathan's arm.
“Listen.”
They stopped.
Voices behind them.
Men.
Closer.
Whitmore’s people had entered the passage.
Caleb looked at Vivian.
“You said they didn't know this route.”
“I said Whitmore knew the house.”
Nathan shifted Emma higher.
“Go.”
They reached a rusted steel grate.
Caleb kicked once.
Nothing.
Again.
It moved.
A third strike ripped it free.
Rain poured outside.
They emerged in woods nearly a quarter mile from the estate.
Nathan finally had cell service.
Six missed calls.
One from a number he recognized.
Senator Whitmore.
Five from someone else.
Samuel Price.
Nathan stared at the name.
“That isn't possible.”
Rachel saw it.
“Don't answer.”
The phone rang again.
Samuel Price.
Nathan answered.
Silence.
Then a man spoke.
“Nathan.”
Older voice.
Measured.
Familiar.
Nathan had not heard it in years.
“Samuel.”
“I'm glad you finally opened the room.”
Nathan looked at Rachel.
“How do you know?”
“Because everything in that house was built for a reason.”
“What do you want?”
“To keep you alive.”
Nathan almost laughed.
“Wrong night to start caring.”
“Whitmore isn't coming for Emma because she is Luke's daughter.”
Nathan’s expression changed.
“Then why?”
“Because Elena left something with her.”
“What?”
Samuel paused.
“Something Luke never found.”
Emma was touching Elena's locket.
Nathan looked at it.
Samuel continued.
“Charles believes it's still inside the house.”
Nathan understood.
“The locket?”
“No.”
“What did Elena leave?”
“A record.”
“Of what?”
“Every person who bought protection from your father's organization.”
Nathan looked at Vivian.
She had gone pale.
Samuel lowered his voice.
“Judges. Prosecutors. businessmen. police officials.”
“And Whitmore.”
“Especially Whitmore.”
Nathan’s grip tightened on the phone.
“Where is it?”
“If I knew, none of this would be happening.”
A gunshot echoed from the tunnel behind them.
Caleb turned.
“We have to move.”
Nathan started walking.
Samuel spoke quickly.
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
“Elena didn't leave the record with Emma by accident.”
Nathan stopped.
“What are you saying?”
“She knew she was going to die.”
Rain ran down Nathan’s face.
Samuel continued.
“And before she died, she recorded a message explaining exactly who ordered her murder.”
Nathan felt Emma’s arms tighten around his neck.
“Whitmore?”
“No.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
Of course not.
Nothing tonight was that simple.
“Who?”
Samuel's answer was almost lost beneath the rain.
“Luke.”
Nathan stopped dead.
Emma lifted her head.
Nathan stared into the darkness.
“My brother ordered Elena's murder?”
Samuel said, “That's what her recording claims.”
Then the call disconnected.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Emma's voice was the only sound.
Small.
Broken.
“Daddy?”
Nathan looked at her.
May you like
She had heard enough.
“Did my father kill my mother?”
