Chapter 6 - THE TRUTH IN THE FLAMES
Harper stood paralyzed, shielding Lily with her body. The heavy rain plastered her hair to her face, washing away the blood on her hands.
The floor manager’s eyes gleamed with greedy malice. "The card, Harper. The Madam promised me ten percent of the vault for bringing you in alive. Don't make me kill the kid first to prove a point."
Harper looked down at the laminated recipe card lying on the wet asphalt. Lemon Ricotta Cake. The cypher. Two billion dollars in cartel money hidden in a dessert ratio.
Julian groaned, his head slumping forward. He was bleeding out rapidly.
"Harper," Julian rasped, his voice barely a whisper over the rain. "Don't... don't give it to him."
"Shut up, Rossi," the manager snapped, shifting his aim toward Julian’s head. "You're a dead man anyway. Toss the card, Harper!"
Operating purely on instinct, Harper slowly bent down. Her trembling fingers brushed against the laminated card, but her eyes locked onto the discarded tactical flashlight Julian had dropped.
It was a high-lumens police-issue strobe flashlight.
Harper grabbed the recipe card and stood up. "Okay," she cried out, her voice deliberately pathetic, playing the role of a terrified waitress. "Okay, just take it! Don't hurt my sister!"
She held the card out, but her other hand was hidden behind her apron, fingers gripping the heavy metal cylinder of the flashlight.
The manager sneered, lowering his gun slightly as he stepped forward to take the card.
In a lightning-fast motion, Harper whipped her hidden hand forward, smashing her thumb onto the strobe button.
A blinding, pulsating blast of pure white light erupted in the dark alley, hitting the manager directly in his dilated pupils.
"Agh! Bitch!" the man screamed, dropping his free hand to shield his eyes as he fired the gun blindly into the brick wall.
Harper didn't hesitate. She threw her entire body weight forward, driving the heavy metal flashlight directly into the man's throat. The satisfying crunch of cartilage echoed in the alley. The manager choked, dropping his gun as he fell to his knees, gasping for air.
Harper kicked the gun away into the storm drain. She grabbed the manager by the collar of his catering vest, pure adrenaline surging through her veins.
"Who ordered the blacklist?" Harper screamed, slamming his head against the brick wall. "Tell me!"
"Camilla!" the man choked out, spitting blood. "She needed you desperate! But Rossi... Rossi found out!"
Harper froze, looking back at Julian’s fading form.
"Rossi didn't ruin you," the manager wheezed, his eyes rolling back. "He bought the restaurant that fired you... to keep Camilla from finding you. He hid you in plain sight in the catering company..."
The manager passed out, slumping into the puddles.
Harper’s mind reeled. Julian hadn't caused her suffering. He had been trying to hide her from his own wife, using the catering gig as a blind spot in Camilla's surveillance network. He was honoring Evelyn's final wish to protect her daughters.
"Julian!" Harper rushed back to him, lifting his heavy arm over her shoulder. "Come on, we have to move."
"Can't," Julian whispered, his skin ice cold. "Too much blood. Leave me. Take the card... hide."
"I am not leaving you," Harper gritted her teeth. She looked at Lily. "Bug, grab his other side. We have to get him to the street."
Together, the sous-chef and the seven-year-old dragged the ruthless mafia boss to the end of the alley. Parked by the curb was a stolen, rusted sedan the manager had used to track them.
Harper shoved Julian into the backseat, buckling Lily in beside him. She jumped into the driver's seat, hotwiring the ignition with a trick a line cook had taught her years ago. The engine sputtered to life.
She slammed the gas pedal, tearing out into the street.
"Where... where are we going?" Lily asked softly in the back, her small hand gripping Julian’s massive, limp fingers.
"To fix this," Harper said, her eyes burning with fierce determination.
She drove frantically to a rundown animal clinic in the meatpacking district. It was a known front for a mob doctor who owed Julian his life.
Harper pounded on the glass doors until a terrified, balding veterinarian in a blood-stained apron opened it. He took one look at Julian Rossi bleeding out in the backseat and immediately pulled a gurney out to the street.
"He's in hemorrhagic shock," the doctor panicked as they rolled Julian into a sterile operating room smelling of dog shampoo and iodine. "I need to operate now, or he’s dead in ten minutes."
"Do it," Harper demanded, pushing Lily into the waiting room.
As the doctor began cutting away Julian’s ruined tuxedo, Harper’s cell phone, buried deep in her apron pocket, began to vibrate.
She pulled it out. It was an unknown number.
She answered, pressing it to her ear.
"Hello, Harper," a smooth, cultured, ice-cold voice purred through the speaker. Camilla. "You have something that belongs to me. And I have something that belongs to you."
Harper’s blood ran cold. "I have Lily. You have nothing."
"Are you sure about that?" Camilla laughed softly. "Check your little sister's coat pocket, darling. The yellow raincoat."
Harper turned slowly, looking through the glass window of the waiting room. Lily was sitting on a plastic chair.
"Lily," Harper called out, her voice shaking. "Check your pockets."
May you like
Lily reached into her yellow raincoat. She pulled out a heavy, ornate, vintage brass key. The key to Julian’s private vault.
"My men slipped it to her when they secured her at the hospital," Camilla’s voice hissed over the phone. "Bring me the recipe card, and bring me the key. If you don't, I will tell the entire Chicago Police Department where Julian Rossi is bleeding out. What will it be, Chef?"
