The Bullet in the Jewelry Box

The drive back was a blur of rain and sirens. Dominic drove with one hand on the wheel, the other gripping Claire's hand. She was pale, breathing in shallow gasps to keep the pain in her shoulder at bay. Marcus was bleeding out in the trunk, bound with zip ties.

"Dominic," Claire whispered. "If they have Mrs. Keller..."

"They won't hurt her," Dominic said, though he didn't believe it. The Morettis didn't care about collateral damage.

They reached the estate in eighteen minutes. The heavy iron gates were already open. The security detail was gone. The front door of the mansion stood ajar, rain blowing into the marble foyer.

Dominic left the car running. "Stay here. Lock the doors."

"No," Claire said, unbuckling her seatbelt. She reached into the center console and pulled out the spare glock Dominic kept there. Her hands shook, but her grip was correct. "She's my family too."

Dominic looked at her. Really looked at her. The soft, quiet woman society whispered about was standing beside him in the rain, holding a gun to defend their home. He nodded once.

They moved up the steps together.

The house was eerily silent. In the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee hung heavy in the air.

Dominic turned the corner, his weapon raised.

Sitting at the large butcher-block island was a man in a wet leather jacket. He had a gun resting on the granite counter. But he wasn't holding it. His hands were flat on the table.

Across from him stood Mrs. Keller. She was calmly pouring a cup of black coffee from a silver carafe.

The man in the jacket looked up at Dominic, his face tight with fear. "Mr. Vale. Tell her to put the pot down."

Dominic frowned, lowering his gun slightly. "What?"

Mrs. Keller set the coffee cup in front of the man. "Drink it, Mr. Salvo. You looked chilled to the bone when you broke into my kitchen."

"I'm not drinking it," the hitman said, his voice trembling. "She put something in it. I saw her. She dropped a powder in the carafe."

Mrs. Keller turned to Dominic, wiping her hands on her apron. "He's very dramatic, sir. It was just a pinch of salt to cut the bitterness. But he refuses to believe me."

Dominic stared at his housekeeper. She had completely psychological disarmed a cartel hitman with a pot of coffee and sheer, terrifying authority.

"Where are the others?" Dominic asked the man.

"Just me," Salvo stammered. "Marcus said the house was empty."

Dominic walked over and picked up the hitman's gun, tucking it into his belt. "Mrs. Keller, call the police. Tell them a man broke into our home and we've detained him."

"Already done, Mr. Vale," she said crisply. "They are three minutes away."

Claire sagged against the doorframe, letting out a massive breath. She set the glock on the counter.

Dominic pulled her into his arms, careful to wrap his hands around her waist, avoiding her back. She buried her face in his chest.

"It's over," he murmured into her hair.

"Not yet," Claire whispered. She pulled back, looking up at him. Her eyes were suddenly sharp. "The shipment. My father's missing shipment. I know where it is."

Dominic stared at her. "Where?"

Claire reached into her pocket and pulled out the old walnut jewelry box she had brought from the car. "I figured it out this morning. Before Marcus found me. The shipment wasn't money, Dominic. It wasn't drugs."

She turned the box over and slid a false bottom out of the wood.