Chapter 6 - THE GHOST AT THE DOOR
Panic erupted. Guests scrambled backward, knocking over fine china and crystal glasses in their desperation to get away from the armed man.
I didn't think. Forty-two years of training kicked in. I stepped smoothly in front of Adrian and Lily, putting my own body between them and Michael Russo’s gun.
“Frank,” Michael chuckled, his voice rough like sandpaper. “Still playing the loyal guard dog. I thought they were firing you tonight.”
“They tried,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on his weapon. “But I don't abandon my post, Michael. Not anymore.”
Vanessa rushed to her uncle’s side, her red dress swishing violently. “You took too long! They know everything! Sophia had the original files!”
Michael glanced at his niece with mild irritation. “I told you not to push the old man out, Vanessa. You just couldn't wait to be the lady of the house, could you?”
Adrian stepped out from behind me, ignoring my protective arm. He stared at the man who had murdered his sister.
“You’re a dead man, Michael,” Adrian promised, his voice devoid of fear.
“Maybe,” Michael shrugged, leaning heavily on his cane. “But not tonight. Tonight, Vanessa and I are walking out of here with the bearer bonds in your father’s safe. And we’re taking the girl as insurance.”
He pointed the gun directly at Lily.
Lily shrank back in her chair, terrified. I shifted my stance, preparing to lunge, calculating the distance. Twenty feet. Too far for a man my age to cover before he pulled the trigger.
“You won't touch her,” I growled.
“I’ll shoot you in the kneecap, Frank, just like Dominic did to me,” Michael sneered. “Then I’ll take the girl.”
“No, you won't,” Arthur Bennett said from the corner of the room.
Michael rolled his eyes. “Shut up, old man, or I’ll shoot you too.”
“You can try,” Arthur said calmly. He reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a small, heavy object.
It wasn't a weapon. It was an old, leather-bound pocket watch.
Michael froze.
Arthur opened the watch case. “Dominic didn't just keep paper files, Michael. He kept recordings. He recorded the meeting where your brother—Vanessa’s father—ordered the hit on Elena.”
Vanessa’s face went pale. “That’s a bluff. Wiretaps from eighteen years ago wouldn't survive.”
“Dominic digitized it,” Arthur said, holding up the watch. “And he programmed this watch with a dead-man’s switch. If I press this button, the audio file is instantly emailed to the FBI, the District Attorney, and every rival family in the city.”
Michael’s gun wavered. The arrogant smirk melted off his scarred face.
“You press that button, Arthur,” Michael threatened, “and I kill everyone at this table.”
“If you kill us, you have no hostages,” I pointed out, taking a slow step forward. “And you’ll spend the rest of your short life hunted by the feds and the cartel.”
Michael looked at Vanessa, then back at me. He was calculating the odds, realizing the trap had closed around him.
Suddenly, Vanessa snatched a steak knife from the dining table and lunged toward Lily.
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“I’ll kill her myself!” Vanessa shrieked.
I moved.
