Chapter 4 - THE TOBIN BRIDGE AND THE SHIELD
The rear glass of the Escalade shattered into a thousand tiny silver cubes.
Cold wind and icy rain exploded into the cabin. Madeline buried her face into Atlas’s gray coat, her powerful body covering the injured animal completely as glass showered over her back like heavy hail.
"Hold on!" Marco roared from the front seat, spinning the heavy leather steering wheel to the left.
The Escalade slammed sideways into the concrete barrier of the Tobin Bridge with a violent, grinding screech of metal and sparks. The force of the impact threw Madeline against the door panel, her shoulder bruising instantly against the hard trim, but she refused to let go of the dog.
Atlas was barking furiously now, his deep, terrifying roar filling the enclosed space of the SUV, his instincts urging him to fight the invisible threat outside.
"Easy, baby! Down! Stay down!" Madeline screamed over the roar of the wind, using her arms, her chest, her entire weight to lock the panic-stricken animal to the floorboards.
Nico didn't flinch.
He leaned across the broken glass of the rear window, his charcoal jacket soaking through with freezing rain in seconds. His automatic pistol barked three times—sharp, deliberate, rhythmic reports that cut through the sound of the storm.
Fifty feet behind them, the lead Ford Explorer swerved wildly. Its front left tire disintegrated into shredded rubber under Nico’s precise marksmanship. The heavy SUV hit the slick steel expansion joint of the bridge, spun two hundred and forty degrees, and slammed violently into the bridge superstructure, blocking both rear lanes in a cloud of steam and twisted metal.
"One down!" Marco yelled, leaning over the wheel as the Chelsea exit ramp appeared through the fog ahead. "Second one is coming up on our right!"
The second Ford Explorer pulled alongside the Escalade, its passenger window rolling down to reveal a man in a black mask lifting a short-barreled shotgun.
"Madeline, flat!" Nico roared.
Before she could move, Nico threw his own body over hers.
His heavy, cedar-scented frame slammed down on top of her back, his long arms locking around her head and neck, burying her under six feet two inches of muscle, wool, and absolute protection.
BOOM!
A blast of heavy buckshot tore through the side panels of the Escalade, shredding the leather upholstery six inches above their heads. Splinters of wood and plastic rained down over them.
Nico didn't make a sound. But Madeline felt his body stiffen against her back—a sharp, violent spasm that told her everything she needed to know.
"Nico!" she gasped under his weight.
"Don't move," Nico growled into her ear, his breath hot and ragged against her neck.
He reached around her, his arm extending out the shattered side window, and fired four rapid shots directly into the driver’s side door of the second Explorer. The SUV’s engine block let out a sickening metallic groan, black smoke pouring from under its hood as it lost power, drifting hopelessly into the breakdown lane.
Marco slammed the Escalade through the off-ramp barrier, tires screeching as they left the high winds of the bridge and plunged into the dark, industrial streets of Chelsea.
"We lost them, Boss!" Marco yelled, checking the mirror as he wove through a maze of abandoned warehouses and sugar silos. "We're clear!"
The Escalade slowed down, pulling into a dark, covered loading bay behind an old brick spice factory.
Nico didn't get up immediately.
He lay heavy against Madeline’s back, his chest heaving, his rain-soaked charcoal jacket heavy against her spine.
"Nico," Madeline said, her voice shaking as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. "Nico, get off me... you're hit."
Nico slid off her body, collapsing back onto the leather seat.
His left shirt sleeve—pure white silk under his dark wool suit—was turning a deep, terrifying crimson. A heavy buckshot pellet had caught him near the triceps, tearing through the meat of his arm, blood pooling quickly into his cuff.
His face was pale, his dark eyes slightly unfocused, but his jaw remained set like concrete.
Madeline didn't hesitate.
She scrambled up from the floorboards, kneeling on the leather seat beside him. She grabbed her dark green waitress apron—the one stained with dog blood and iodine—and ripped the long fabric strap off with one powerful jerk of her arms.
"You're an idiot," she spat out, her voice cracking with a mixture of rage, adrenaline, and something far deeper. "You threw yourself on top of me!"
"You're a civilian, Miss Brooks," Nico said, his voice raspy, a faint, dark smile touching his lips despite the blood dripping from his fingers. "It's bad for business when servers die in my car."
"Shut up," Madeline snapped, wrapping the apron strap around his upper arm, pulling the improvised tourniquet so tight that Nico let out a sharp, hiss through his teeth. "Hold still!"
Atlas pushed his broad head up between the front seats, gently licking Nico’s uninjured right hand, whining softly as if he understood that the man who owned him had just bled to save the woman who had healed him.
Marco turned around in his seat, his pistol still drawn, staring at Madeline with open-mouthed shock.
"Where are we going, Boss?" Marco asked, his voice trembling. "The private estate in Milton? The hospital?"
"No hospitals," Nico grunted, wincing as Madeline tied a hard double knot in the cloth. "Jimmy has eyes on the medical centers. He knows I won't use a public ER."
"My apartment," Madeline said flatly, pulling Nico’s silk tie off his collar to secure his arm against his chest.
Marco blinked. "What?"
"My apartment is two blocks from here," Madeline said, grabbing her faded winter coat and throwing it around her broad shoulders. "It's small, it's ugly, and nobody in the Boston underworld knows it exists. Now drive before he bleeds out on your expensive leather."
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Nico looked up at her through his heavy eyelids, watching her dark curls bounce around her flushed cheeks, her brown eyes blazing with a fierce, absolute life that no bullet on earth could extinguish.
"Margin Street," Nico whispered to Marco, his dark head falling back against the headrest. "Take us to her house."
