Chapter 2 - THE SHADOW IN THE ALLEY
Two men clad in matte-black tactical gear, carrying suppressed submachine guns, burst through the kitchen doorway!
“Vance!” one of them yelled, raising his weapon—
The ambient silence of the bakery exploded into absolute violence.
Julian didn't hesitate for a single microsecond. With terrifying speed born of years in war zones and mafia feuds, he threw his heavy body over Sophie, shielding her with his broad frame while his hand reached beneath his suit jacket, pulling a sleek, matte-black sidearm from his shoulder holster.
BANG! BANG!
The thunderous report of Julian’s weapon filled the small bakery! The first attacker flew backward through the kitchen door, his suppressed rifle clattering to the floor.
Outside, the six Escalades began honking their horns as automatic gunfire erupted in the alleyway. Julian’s guards outside engaged a secondary ambush team.
Inside, the second masked attacker aimed his weapon straight at Julian’s exposed back while Julian was leaning over his daughter on the floor.
“JULIAN! LOOK OUT!” Emma screamed.
She didn't think about her weight. She didn't think about her safety. She didn't think about the fact that she was a baker who had never held a weapon in her life.
Emma hurled her broad, heavy body forward, placing herself directly between the gunman’s barrel and Julian Vance’s back!
THWACK!
A suppressed 9mm round tore through the air, embedding itself deeply into the fleshy, soft upper curve of Emma’s left shoulder!
Emma let out a sharp, choked gasp, the force of the bullet knocking her sideways. She crashed hard onto the tile floor beside the booth, blood instantly blooming like a dark, crimson flower across her yellow linen shirt.
Julian spun on the floor, his face transformed into something demonically terrifying. He raised his pistol and fired three rapid rounds directly into the second gunman’s chest!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The gunman dropped like a stone.
Silence returned to the bakery, save for the smell of cordite, shattered glass, and the distant wail of sirens in the Manhattan night.
Julian scrambled up onto his knees. He didn't check himself. He looked at his daughter, who was trembling in the corner of the booth, unhurt, her hands pressed tightly over her eyes.
Then he looked down at Emma.
Emma was lying on her side, clutching her left shoulder, her pale face slick with cold sweat as she gritted her teeth against the scorching, agonizing pain radiating through her upper chest.
Julian moved over her instantly. His massive, calloused hands pressed firmly down on her wound, applying immediate, expert pressure to stop the bleeding.
“Why the hell did you do that?” Julian growled, his charcoal eyes burning with an intense, chaotic mix of shock, anger, and something dangerous he couldn't name. “You took a bullet for me?”
Emma looked up into his terrifying, handsome face, her lips pale, a faint, weak smile touching her mouth despite the agony.
“I... I took it for... for her,” Emma whispered raspy, her hazel eyes flickering toward the terrified little girl in the booth. “She... she needs her papa.”
Julian’s breath caught in his throat.
For thirty-five years, Julian Vance had lived in a world where everyone wanted something from him—money, power, protection, or his life. No one had ever given up anything for him. And certainly no one had ever thrown their body in front of a bullet to protect his family without asking for a single dime in return.
He looked down at this broad, soft, remarkable woman bleeding on the bakery floor, and something inside his cold, iron heart shattered beyond repair.
“Marco!” Julian roared toward the shattered front door.
His lead enforcer, a scarred veteran with a bleeding cheek, rushed into the shop, gun drawn. “Boss! The alley is clear! Secondary squad is neutralized! We need to move now before the feds arrive!”
“Get the medical transport van from the safehouse,” Julian ordered, his voice echoing like thunder. “Call Dr. Evans. Tell him to prepare the surgical suite at the estate.”
Marco blinked, looking down at Emma. “Boss... that’s a civilian. We should leave her for the city ambulance—”
Julian’s head snapped toward his lieutenant with such pure, murderous malice that Marco instinctively took a step back.
“She bled for my daughter, Marco,” Julian growled, his voice dropping into a terrifying register. “She goes to my house. She gets my doctors. If she dies, I will tear this city apart brick by brick.”
Without waiting for a response, Julian reached down, slipping one massive arm beneath Emma’s knees and the other around her broad back. With effortless, immense physical strength, he lifted her off the floor, pulling her full, soft weight firmly against his chest.
Emma gasped softly at the movement, her head reflexively resting against the broad, warm expanse of his neck. He smelled of rain, expensive cedarwood cologne, and copper blood.
Julian looked down at Sophie, holding out his hand.
Sophie jumped out of the booth, grabbing her father’s belt loop, her small eyes fixated on Emma’s pale face with deep, overwhelming worry.
Is she going to die? Sophie signed frantically with one hand.
May you like
Julian looked down at the woman in his arms, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of her heart against his ribs.
“No, baby,” Julian said aloud, his voice an ironclad promise as he carried Emma out through the rain toward his armored SUV. “She’s coming home with us.”
