Chapter 4 - Blood on the Hudson
"Don't move a muscle, uncle," Marco sneered, leaning over the metal railing above us, a high-caliber handgun trained directly on my forehead. "Look at what the cat dragged in. The quiet little cleaning girl is actually royal blood. And she brought a little bastard with her."
My heart stopped. The red laser dot rested right over my chest, inches from where Lily was tucked inside my coat.
"Stand down, Marco," Victor said calmly, stepping directly in front of me, using his broad frame to block the snipers' line of sight. "Your quarrel is with me. Let the mother and child go."
"Not a chance," Marco laughed, his finger tightening on the trigger. "My father waited twenty-five years to settle this score. Your sister made a fool of my family. Killing her daughter and her grand-child in front of you is going to be the highlight of my year."
"Dominic... now!" Victor roared.
Dominic hit a red button on his wrist radio.
A deafening explosion rocked the upper cliffside as the charges planted along the boathouse roof detonated! Heavy timber, concrete, and snow caved inward, crushing two of Marcone's snipers instantly and filling the boathouse with blinding white dust!
Gunfire erupted! Victor raised his weapon, firing three precise shots up into the rafters. Marco screamed in rage as a bullet caught him in the thigh, sending him tumbling down from the platform onto the wooden dock below!
"Get us out of here!" Victor yelled, diving onto the boat as Dominic slammed the throttles forward!
The powerful twin engines roared to life, and the armored speedboat burst through the boathouse doors, plunging into the icy, churning waters of the Hudson River just as Marco’s remaining men opened fire from the shore. Bullets pinged harmlessly off the boat's reinforced carbon-fiber hull as we sped away into the blinding snowstorm.
I fell onto the cabin bench, holding Lily tight as the boat bounced violently over the black waves.
Victor rushed into the cabin, dropping his weapon and immediately dropping to his knees beside us. He pulled a portable medical kit from the wall bracket, extracting a pre-measured dose of pediatric fever reducer and a pouch of sterile saline solution.
"Is she okay?!" I cried out, my hands covered in river spray and dust.
"She’s resilient," Victor said, his large, calloused hands remarkably gentle as he helped me administer the oral medicine to Lily’s mouth. He checked her pulse with a practiced finger. "Her fever is starting to break. We’ll be at the Tarrytown medical facility in ten minutes. My private pediatric specialists are already waiting on the dock."
I looked at this man—a legendary crime boss who had spent his life surrounded by violence and fear—and saw real tears glistening in his eyes as he gently stroked my baby’s soft cheek.
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"Thank you, Uncle Victor," I whispered softly.
Victor looked up at me, a profound look of peace touching his weathered face for the first time in decades. "You don't ever have to thank me, Hannah. You brought my sister back to me."
