Chapter 4 - Blood and Dialysis
“You sold me out, Russo,” Dominic said. His voice was terrifyingly calm, despite the blood pouring from his side. He stepped in front of Cassidy and Mia, shielding them completely.
The guard, Russo, laughed, tossing Gavin to the concrete floor like garbage. The manager groaned, clutching a shattered kneecap. “It wasn't a hard choice, Dominic. The new boss pays better. And he promised me your territory in the South Loop.”
“The new boss.” Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”
“Does it matter?” Russo raised the gun, aiming right between Dominic’s eyes. “You’re retiring early.”
Cassidy didn't think. She acted.
Her hand wrapped around a heavy, discarded metal pipe leaning against the parking barricade. As Russo stepped forward to take the execution shot, Cassidy swung the pipe with every ounce of strength her exhausted, aching body possessed.
The metal connected solidly with Russo’s wrist. There was a sickening crack. The gun discharged wildly into the ceiling as Russo screamed, dropping the weapon.
Dominic moved with explosive speed. Injured or not, he lunged, driving his knee into Russo’s chest. The traitor collapsed, gasping for air, out cold before his head even hit the pavement.
Dominic picked up the discarded gun, his breathing ragged. He looked at Cassidy, shock flashing in his dark eyes. She was shaking violently, still gripping the metal pipe, her knuckles white.
“I—I live three blocks from here,” Cassidy stammered, dropping the pipe as if it had burned her. “I have a first-aid kit. We have to get off the street.”
Dominic didn't argue. He picked up Mia, leaning heavily on Cassidy’s shoulder, and they disappeared into the freezing Chicago night.
Fifteen minutes later, Dominic was sitting on the edge of Cassidy’s twin bed. The apartment was barely four hundred square feet, freezing cold because the radiator was broken. Cardboard boxes served as a makeshift coffee table.
Cassidy tore open her medical kit, her hands steady now that she had a task. “Take off your jacket. I need to see the wound.”
Dominic complied, his eyes scanning the cramped room. He noticed the pile of mail on the folding table. A red eviction notice. A stack of past-due bills from Chicago Renal Associates.
He looked at Cassidy as she pressed a thick gauze pad against the bullet graze on his ribs. She had stepped between a killer and a child, knowing she had nothing. She was drowning in debt, yet she hadn’t hesitated to throw her life on the line for a stranger.
“You’re a nurse?” he asked quietly, flinching slightly as she applied pressure.
“I was in school,” Cassidy said softly, taping the bandage down. “My mom got sick. Kidneys. I had to drop out to work.”
Mia tugged on Cassidy’s sleeve. The little girl reached into the pocket of her velvet dress and pulled out the two halves of the blue colored pencil Gavin had snapped. She offered them to Cassidy, her eyes full of profound gratitude.
Cassidy’s eyes welled with tears. She took the broken pieces. “Thank you, sweetie.”
“She hasn't spoken in two years,” Dominic said. His gaze was fixed on his daughter. “Not since the night my enemies ambushed our car. They killed my wife in the passenger seat. Mia was in the back. She hasn't made a sound since.”
Cassidy’s breath hitched. She looked at the terrifying man, suddenly seeing the broken father beneath the expensive clothes. “Who wants you dead, Mr. Davis?”
“My name is Dominic Valente.”
Cassidy froze. Everyone in Chicago knew that name. He was the head of the city’s most powerful crime syndicate.
Before she could process the revelation, Dominic’s burner phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it on speaker.
“Dominic,” a voice said. It was smooth, familiar. Too familiar.
Dominic’s face drained of color. “Vincent.”
It was his brother.
“I see Russo failed,” Vincent sighed over the line. “A shame. But I suppose we must do this the hard way.”
“You did this,” Dominic growled, gripping the phone so hard the plastic cracked. “Your own blood.”
“Business is business, brother. But let’s make a deal. I know you’re with the waitress. I did some digging while you were running. Did you know her mother is currently hooked up to a dialysis machine at St. Jude’s clinic?”
May you like
Cassidy’s heart stopped. The blood roared in her ears.
“I have my men in the lobby,” Vincent purred. “Bring me the ledger that gives me access to the offshore accounts, and turn yourself in. Or I pull the plug on the old lady’s machine right now.”
