Chapter 5 - The Wrong Woman to KidnapDominic changed in less than a second.
The man Emma had argued with vanished. In his place stood the kind of man Chicago feared for a reason.
“Cole,” he said.
Cole emerged from the shadows as if darkness had produced him.
“Already tracing,” Cole said, phone to his ear. “Signal bounced twice. West Side, maybe old stockyard district.”
Emma gripped the dead phone. “We need police.”
Dominic looked at her. “Harris is being called.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
His voice dropped. “Emma, this is not a diner argument.”
“My best friend is missing because of me.”
“Because of me.”
“Fine. Because of us. I’m still coming.”
Dominic stepped closer. “They asked for you because they want leverage. I will not hand them what they want.”
Emma’s laugh came out sharp. “You think I’m asking permission?”
Cole looked between them with the tired expression of a man watching two storms collide.
Dominic said, “If you come, you do exactly what I say.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
Emma stepped into his space. “I’ll listen if you make sense. I’ll cooperate if Sarah’s life depends on it. But I won’t become luggage you carry into danger.”
Dominic stared at her.
Then, against all reason, he nodded.
“Fine.”
Cole muttered, “That’s a terrible precedent.”
They drove in a black SUV that smelled like leather and gun oil. Emma sat beside Dominic in the back, clutching Sarah’s phone so tightly her fingers hurt.
Dominic spoke quietly into his own phone. Names. Locations. Orders.
Not once did he raise his voice.
That frightened Emma more than shouting would have.
Men obeyed him because he did not need to prove power. He simply had it.
Fifteen minutes later, Detective Harris called.
Dominic put him on speaker.
“I swear to God, Vale,” Harris said, “if you turn this into a street war—”
“My people are holding position.”
“Your people shouldn’t exist.”
“And yet they found her faster than yours.”
Emma leaned toward the phone. “Detective, can you help Sarah?”
Harris paused. His voice softened. “We’re trying, Emma. But if Dominic has a location—”
“He does.”
“Then listen carefully. Whoever took Sarah wants you emotional. Don’t give them speed when they want mistakes.”
Dominic looked at her.
Emma hated that everyone suddenly sounded reasonable.
They stopped three blocks from an abandoned meatpacking warehouse near the river. Rain had started, thin and cold, turning the streets silver under broken lamps.
Cole handed Emma a small earpiece.
She stared at it. “You just have these?”
“Yes,” Cole said.
“Of course you do.”
Dominic crouched in front of her before she exited the SUV. “You stay behind me.”
“Dominic—”
“Please.”
The word stopped her.
It did not sound like strategy.
It sounded like fear.
Emma nodded once.
They entered through a side door. The warehouse smelled of rust, damp concrete, and old blood scrubbed too many times from floors.
Emma’s heart pounded.
A laugh echoed from the center of the building.
Sarah sat tied to a chair beneath a hanging work light. Tape covered her mouth, but her eyes were wide and furious rather than broken.
That was Sarah.
Terrified, but insulted by it.
Three men stood nearby. One held a pistol. Another had a knife. The third wore an expensive camel coat and Dominic’s eyes.
Not exactly.
His were lighter. Crueler.
Adrian Vale smiled. “Little brother.”
Dominic went still.
Emma heard the title and felt the room tilt.
Adrian’s gaze moved to her. “And there she is. The waitress who made Dominic Vale chase his own tail.”
Emma’s fear turned hot.
“You kidnapped the wrong woman,” she said.
Sarah made a muffled sound that might have been agreement.
Adrian laughed. “You have spirit. That gets boring faster than women think.”
Dominic’s voice was flat. “Let her go.”
“Which one?”
The men laughed.
Dominic did not move. “Adrian.”
“I heard you protected Rosie’s place today. Sweet. Sentimental. Embarrassing.” Adrian circled Sarah’s chair. “Moretti says the diner matters. I wanted to understand why. Then I saw you had a waitress problem.”
Emma glanced at Dominic.
His face revealed nothing, but the tendon in his jaw jumped.
Adrian noticed.
“Oh,” he said softly. “It’s true.”
Dominic took one step forward.
The man with the gun raised it.
Emma’s mind moved faster than her fear.
She saw Sarah’s chair leg wobbling on cracked concrete. Saw the hanging work light swinging slightly. Saw a metal tray on a nearby table. Saw Adrian standing too close to Sarah, enjoying himself too much to watch the ordinary woman he had underestimated.
Emma moved.
Not toward Adrian.
Toward the tray.
She grabbed it and slammed it into the work light.
The bulb exploded.
Darkness swallowed the warehouse.
Men shouted.
Dominic moved like violence given shape.
Cole’s voice cracked through the earpiece: “Down!”
Emma dropped.
Two shots fired.
Someone cursed.
Sarah screamed through the tape.
Emma crawled toward her voice, hands scraping concrete. She found Sarah’s knees, then the rope, and dug at the knot with shaking fingers.
“Emma?” Sarah sobbed behind the tape.
“I’m here.”
A heavy body hit the floor nearby.
Dominic appeared out of the dark, breathing hard. “We need to go.”
Emma freed Sarah’s hands.
Sarah ripped the tape from her mouth. “I hate every single man in this building.”
“Noted,” Emma said.
They ran.
At the side exit, Adrian’s voice followed them.
“You can’t protect both of them, Dominic!”
Dominic stopped.
Emma grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”
For one terrifying second, she thought he would turn back.
Then he looked at her hand on his sleeve and chose to keep moving.
Outside, police sirens finally approached.
Harris’s unmarked car skidded to the curb.
Sarah collapsed into his arms, shaking.
Emma turned to Dominic.
Rain ran down his face. His shirt was torn at the shoulder. Blood darkened one sleeve.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“It’s not mine.”
“That is not the comfort men think it is.”
His mouth almost curved.
Then his eyes rolled back.
May you like
Dominic Vale dropped to the pavement.
Emma caught him before his head hit concrete.
