The Bullet in the Jewelry Box

Marcus hit the grating hard, but he was fast. He rolled, sweeping a leg out to knock Claire off balance. She stumbled, falling hard onto her right shoulder—the bad shoulder. A cry of pure agony tore from her throat.

Dominic’s heart stopped. He aimed, but Marcus was too close to her. "Back away from her!"

Marcus gritted his teeth, pulling a small, black plastic device from his coat pocket. A detonator. "You think I brought her here to talk, Dom? The Morettis don't want the shipment anymore. They want you gone, and they paid me double to ensure it happens today."

Dominic didn't hesitate. He didn't bargain. He shot Marcus in the hand holding the device.

The gunshot deafened the warehouse. Marcus screamed as the detonator shattered into plastic shrapnel, flying over the edge of the catwalk.

Dominic took the metal stairs three at a time. By the time he reached the top, Marcus was scrambling backward, clutching his bleeding hand. Dominic didn't look at him. He fell to his knees beside Claire.

She was curled on her side, trembling violently, her hand clutching her upper back.

"Claire. I've got you." Dominic slid his arms under her, avoiding her right shoulder completely. He pulled her against his chest. "I'm here."

She looked up at him, her face pale, tears streaking her makeup. "You found the paper in the locket."

"I found everything."

"I tried to tell you," she choked out. "But if you knew Marcus was the traitor, I knew you'd kill him. And if you killed him, the Morettis would start a war. I was trying to find the missing shipment to buy them off."

"You don't buy off animals, Claire," Dominic said fiercely. He kissed her forehead, his voice breaking. "You let me carry the weight. That's my job."

He stood up, turning his attention to Marcus, who was leaning heavily against the railing.

"The Morettis are coming, Dom," Marcus spat, blood dripping from his fingers. "You think this stops with me? They've been watching the house. They know Mrs. Keller is alone."

Dominic’s chest tightened. Mrs. Keller. She was like a mother to him.

His phone rang in his pocket. It wasn't his men. It was the estate's landline.

Dominic answered on speaker. "Mrs. Keller?"

"Mr. Vale," came a rough, unfamiliar voice. A man's voice. Heavy with a South Philly accent. "Your housekeeper is making a lovely pot of coffee. You and the wife have twenty minutes to get back here, or I'm afraid she's going to have a terrible accident on the stairs."

The line went dead.

Dominic looked at Claire. The terror in her eyes mirrored his own.