Chapter 4 - THE HARBOR IN THE STORM
The ringing in Sage’s ears was deafening. Smoke hissed from the deployed airbags.
“Get down!” Dominic roared.
He didn't wait for her to move. He threw his massive frame over hers, pressing her flat against the floorboards just as the SUV’s reinforced windows spider-webbed under a hail of bullets. The deafening cracks echoed in Sage’s skull.
Marcus, the driver, was already moving. He threw the ruined SUV into reverse, the engine screaming as it ground against twisted metal, and slammed backward out of the intersection. He whipped the wheel hard, tires smoking, and launched them down a narrow, unlit alleyway.
Dominic stayed over her until they were deep into the shadows. He slowly pushed himself up, brushing shattered glass from his shoulders.
“Are you hit?” he demanded, his hands quickly moving over her arms, checking for blood.
“No,” Sage gasped, her hands shaking so violently she could barely feel her fingers. “No, I’m okay. Who was that? That was a cop!”
“A uniform doesn't make a man a cop,” Dominic said grimly. He looked at Marcus in the front. “Status.”
“Radiator is blown, boss,” Marcus grunted, his arm bleeding. “We have about two miles before the engine seizes.”
“Get us to the marina.”
Dominic leaned back against the seat, his chest heaving slightly. He looked at Sage, truly looked at her. She was terrified, missing a shoe, wrapped in a coat meant for a man twice her size. In his world, women screamed. They panicked. But Sage was forcing herself to breathe, her eyes wide but sharply focused.
“I’m sorry,” Dominic said softly. It was the most human he had sounded all night. “Tyler used you as a dead drop. He knew my men wouldn't search his ex-fiancée. But whoever he is selling that key to clearly tracked him to the restaurant.”
“Tyler doesn't have the stomach for this,” Sage said, shaking her head. “He yells at valets. He threatens me. But he doesn't shoot up cars in the middle of the street.”
“No. But the man he’s selling this key to does.”
The SUV choked and sputtered as it pulled into an abandoned, fog-covered marina on the edge of Lake Michigan. Marcus cut the engine. The silence that followed was heavy and cold.
Dominic grabbed the brass key, shoved it deep into his pocket, and helped Sage out of the vehicle. The freezing wind off the lake bit through her dress, but the heavy wool coat kept her anchored.
They walked swiftly down the wooden docks toward a massive, dark yacht.
“We stay here tonight,” Dominic said, unlocking the cabin door. “It’s off the books. Nobody knows about it.”
The inside of the yacht was stunning—dark wood, cream leather, absolute luxury hidden in the gritty marina. Dominic turned on a dim light and immediately went to a locked cabinet, pulling out a first-aid kit.
He gestured for Sage to sit on the plush sofa.
“Give me your foot,” he ordered gently.
Sage hesitated, then lifted her bare, bruised foot onto his knee. He didn't look at her with pity or aggression. He took a sterile wipe and carefully cleaned the cut she had gotten when the glass shattered. His hands, so capable of violence minutes ago, were shockingly gentle.
“Why would Tyler steal something so dangerous?” Sage asked quietly, watching his hands. “He loves money, but he loves his life more.”
“He didn't steal it for money,” Dominic said, wrapping a bandage around her arch. “My father died six months ago. Since then, the syndicate has been splitting. Half want to go legitimate. The other half want to burn the city down. Tyler works for the half that wants fire. He took the key to give them leverage over the judges we’ve spent decades putting in our pockets.”
He finished wrapping her foot and looked up, his gray eyes locking onto hers.
“But there’s a piece missing,” Dominic muttered, a dark furrow in his brow. “Tyler is stupid, but he isn't suicidal. He wouldn't steal from me unless he had an insurance policy. Something that guaranteed I wouldn't just kill him the second I found him.”
Sage’s heart skipped a beat. She thought back to the last time she had seen Tyler before the breakup. He had been frantic, tearing apart their shared apartment, looking for a specific file folder.
“Dominic,” she breathed. “Two weeks before I left him, Tyler forced me to sign a stack of documents. He said it was for a joint tax return. I didn't read them. I just wanted him to stop yelling.”
Dominic went completely still. “What did you sign, Sage?”
“I don't know,” she panicked. “But he kept calling them the 'Lakefront Assets'.”
Dominic stood up abruptly, running a hand through his dark hair. The realization hit him like a physical blow.
“He didn't just steal the key,” Dominic said, his voice dropping to a horrified whisper. “He transferred the legal ownership of my family’s legitimate holding company into your name. If I kill him, the company defaults to you. And the men hunting him…”
A heavy, deliberate knock echoed on the cabin door.
Dominic drew a dark handgun from his waistband in a flash of terrifying speed. He stepped in front of Sage, aiming at the door.
The door slowly swung open.
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Standing in the freezing fog wasn't a hitman. It was a little girl, no older than eight, clutching a ragged stuffed bear. She looked up at Dominic with wide, tear-filled eyes.
“Uncle Dom?” the little girl whimpered. “They took mommy.”
