Chapter 2 - The Fortress on the Coast
Thirty minutes later, the storm was still howling as a fleet of four black armored SUVs tore down the private coastal highway heading north toward Gloucester.
Inside the rear cabin of the lead Maybach, Sarah lay resting against a soft leather bench. A private medical team led by Dr. Weaver—a trusted physician on the Hayes organization’s payroll—was already monitoring her vitals, running a continuous IV drip of chelating agents to neutralize the heavy metals in her bloodstream.
Declan sat beside her, holding her thin, shivering hand tightly in his broad palm. He hadn't let go of her hand since he carried her out of the darkened executive office.
"Vitals are stabilizing, Mr. Hayes," Dr. Weaver reported softly, checking the digital monitor. "The thallium exposure was caught just in time. Because she was only drinking small amounts daily, the organ damage is reversible. The fetus is strong—heartbeat is holding steady at one hundred and fifty beats per minute."
Declan let out a long, ragged breath he felt like he had been holding for sixteen weeks. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against the back of Sarah’s cold hand.
"Thank God," he murmured.
Sarah slowly opened her eyes, looking up at the ruthless kingpin who was currently holding her hand with terrifying tenderness.
"Declan..." she whispered, her voice raspy. "Your arm."
He looked down casually at his left arm. A stray bullet from the shootout had grazed his forearm, tearing his white shirt sleeve and leaving blood dried against his skin.
"It's nothing," Declan said gently, reaching up with his thumb to brush a strand of dark hair away from her pale cheek. "How do you feel?"
"Tired," she admitted, tears welling in her eyes as she looked at him. "Declan... I'm so sorry. I should have told you about the baby sooner. I was afraid..."
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid you would think I was using it to trap you," Sarah choked out, a tear slipping down her nose. "You're Declan Hayes. Everyone wants something from you. And... and after Miami, you acted like that night never happened. You went back to being my boss. I thought... I thought you didn't want this."
Declan felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest that had nothing to do with bullets.
He remembered Miami sixteen weeks ago. He remembered the storm outside the safe house, the adrenaline after surviving an ambush, and the way Sarah had looked at him—not as a terrifying mafia boss, but as a man. That night had been the most honest, beautiful moment of his life.
But he had been terrified of his own darkness. He had spent his entire life surrounded by blood, violence, and enemies. He had forced himself to keep his distance from her afterward because he believed keeping her as his secretary was the only way to protect her from his world.
And instead, his silence had almost gotten her killed.
"I was a fool, Sarah," Declan said softly, his voice trembling with a rare, raw emotion. He leaned down, placing a warm, lingering kiss on her pale forehead, then moved down to rest his cheek against her knuckles. "I stayed away because I thought I was protecting you from my life. But I promise you, on my life, on my soul... no one will ever hurt you again."
The Maybach pulled through a set of massive, iron security gates, ascending a winding cliffside driveway to the Hayes Private Estate—a massive, fortified stone manor sitting on an isolated peninsula overlooking the crashing Atlantic ocean.
Armed men in dark coats lined the driveway, bowing their heads respectfully as the car stopped beneath the grand stone portico.
Declan stepped out first. Without waiting for the medics, he reached into the car and lifted Sarah gently into his arms, wrapping his dark wool coat around her body. He carried her up the marble steps, past his security detail, and straight up to the master bedroom wing on the second floor.
He laid her down on a massive king-sized bed lined with heavy goose-down pillows and warm cashmere blankets.
"This is your room now, Sarah," Declan said softly, sitting on the edge of the mattress, his eyes fixed on her face. "You don't go back to the office. You don't take calls. You rest. My staff will take care of everything you need."
"And you?" Sarah asked softly, her hand reaching out to touch his chest. "What are you going to do?"
May you like
Declan’s steel-blue eyes hardened into dark ice, the protective lover vanishing for a fraction of a second to reveal the lethal mob boss underneath.
"I am going to pay Arthur Bishop a visit," Declan said quietly. "And I am going to make sure he regrets the day he ever heard your name."
