Chapter 5 - SOMEBODY CAME FOR JUNE
I got June out of the house through the service entrance.
Not because I thought my home was unsafe.
Because I knew it was.
“Get in.”
She stared at my SUV.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere Victor doesn’t know.”
“Does that place exist?”
Good question.
I drove myself.
No driver.
No security team.
Most of them reported through Victor.
June sat rigid in the passenger seat.
“You have a gun?”
“Yes.”
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Good.”
She looked at me.
“You always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like every sentence is trying to win a fight.”
I almost smiled.
“Usually.”
We headed south toward the city.
I called Aaron on a burner phone.
“Meet me at the old Fulton warehouse.”
“That place is condemned.”
“That’s why.”
“I found more on Northstar.”
“Bring it.”
“What happened?”
“Victor happened.”
I hung up.
June looked out the window.
“My kids are supposed to call me at nine.”
“You’ll call them.”
“What if somebody goes to my mom’s house?”
That possibility hit me harder than I wanted to show.
I changed lanes.
“I’ll send someone.”
“Who do you trust?”
I didn’t answer.
June looked at me.
“Exactly.”
At 8:42, a black Tahoe appeared behind us.
Two cars back.
Then one.
I took a right.
It followed.
Another right.
Still there.
June noticed.
“That car?”
“Yes.”
“Victor?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do we do?”
“Seat belt.”
“I’m wearing it.”
“Pull it tighter.”
The Tahoe accelerated.
So did I.
Chicago morning traffic was building.
Bad for them.
Worse for us.
I cut through an intersection on yellow.
The Tahoe ran red.
A horn screamed.
June grabbed the door handle.
“You drive like a maniac.”
“I paid good money for defensive driving lessons.”
“That was defensive?”
The Tahoe hit our rear bumper.
June screamed.
I fought the wheel.
“Okay,” I said. “That wasn’t.”
They hit us again.
Hard.
The SUV fishtailed.
I took Lower Wacker, dropped two gears, and shoved through a gap between a delivery van and a concrete pillar.
The Tahoe stayed with us.
June twisted around.
“There are two men.”
“Can you see them?”
“One driving.”
“And the other?”
Her face went pale.
“He has a gun.”
“Down.”
A loud crack hit the rear glass.
June dropped.
I turned hard into a service lane.
Another shot.
Glass burst behind us.
I reached under my jacket.
June saw the gun.
“Don’t shoot while driving!”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Your face says otherwise!”
A truck pulled out ahead.
I slammed the brakes.
The Tahoe swerved.
For one second, it pulled beside us.
I saw the passenger.
Shaved head.
Dark beard.
Scar over one eyebrow.
I knew him.
Tomas Redd.
Victor’s private fixer.
A man who had handled “security issues” for our logistics division.
Our eyes met.
He raised the gun.
I dropped low.
June grabbed the steering wheel.
The shot hit the driver-side mirror.
“Drive!” she screamed.
“I am driving!”
“No, I am!”
She yanked the wheel hard right.
We shot down an exit ramp.
The Tahoe missed it.
For three blocks, neither of us spoke.
Then June slowly released the wheel.
“I think I just saved your life.”
“I think you almost killed us.”
“You’re welcome.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
It came out wrong.
Rusty.
I hadn’t laughed like that in two years.
Then June’s phone rang.
Her face changed instantly.
“Mom.”
She answered.
“Hey, Mama.”
Silence.
June’s smile disappeared.
“What?”
I glanced over.
Her skin turned gray.
“Mom, lock the door.”
My hands tightened on the wheel.
“No, don’t go outside. Listen to me. Take Lila and Micah into the bathroom. Lock it.”
June looked at me.
“There’s a car outside her house.”
“What kind?”
She asked.
Her mother answered.
June whispered, “Black sedan.”
I hit the gas.
Then her mother screamed through the phone.
A man’s voice shouted in the background.
The line went dead.
June stared at the screen.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
“Mom!”
She called back.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
June turned toward me.
Her face was empty with terror.
“They have my kids.”
I called Aaron.
“Change of plan.”
“Daniel, where are you?”
“Peoria.”
“What?”
“I need every camera, plate reader, traffic feed, and private security contact we still control.”
“That’s not legal.”
“Neither is kidnapping children.”
I hung up.
June grabbed my sleeve.
“If anything happens to them—”
“It won’t.”
“You don’t know that!”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“But whoever took them made one mistake.”
May you like
“What?”
“They thought I was still the kind of man who cared more about protecting my empire than burning it down.”
