Chapter 2 - The Hit on the Mountain
The heavy iron security gates at the bottom of the long, winding driveway buckled inward with a thunderous CRASH as a heavy armored SUV rammed through them.
Two more black vehicles screeched up the gravel road, their headlights cutting through the darkening fog. Armed men in black gear spilled out, automatic rifles raised, taking cover behind the pine trees and stone statues lining the estate grounds.
"Dominic! Get her into the vault downstairs!" Salvatore ordered, unbuttoning his coat to reveal a shoulder holster containing two custom silver weapons.
"I can't leave my bike!" Renley cried out, her small hands clutching Salvatore’s coat sleeve. "The thermal bag has four more meals for the senior home on Oak Street! Mrs. Gable is waiting for her broth!"
Salvatore stopped, looking down at the young girl in absolute disbelief. Men were shooting high-caliber rounds at his house, bulletproof glass was cracking overhead, and this twelve-year-old girl was worried about an eighty-year-old woman's broth.
A rare, genuine smile touched the corner of Salvatore’s mouth.
"Dominic," Salvatore commanded softly as a bullet shattered a stone pillar ten feet away. "Bring the girl's bicycle inside the house. If a single soup container spills, I will personally throw you off the pier."
"Boss!" Dominic shouted in disbelief, but he sprinted out into the crossfire, grabbed the battered red bicycle, and dragged it into the marble foyer just as heavy automatic fire ripped through the front doors.
Salvatore grabbed Renley’s hand and led her down a wide, carpeted hallway toward a hidden wood-paneled door behind his library desk. He pressed a biometric thumb scanner, and a six-inch-thick steel door slid open quietly into the wall.
"Stay inside here, Renley," Salvatore said, guiding her into a warm, comfortable room equipped with leather sofas, wall monitors showing the estate security feeds, and a small kitchenette. "You are safe in this room. Nothing on earth can pierce these walls."
"What about you, Mr. Vance?" Renley asked, her voice trembling slightly as the house shook from an explosion outside.
"My name is Julian," he corrected gently, leaning down to pat her shoulder. "And I have forty years of debt to pay back to the men who made my brother live in the shadows."
He stepped back out into the library and closed the steel vault door, leaving Renley inside with the glowing security monitors.
Renley sat on the edge of the large leather couch, her small knees pressed together. On the central wall monitor, she watched the chaotic battle unfolding outside.
Three men led by a tall, scarred man in a leather coat—whom she recognized from news posters as Leo Moretti—were pushing past the front terrace.
"Where is the old man?!" Leo Moretti screamed on the camera audio feed, kicking down the shattered oak front doors. "We know Walter Pike died in his dirt-cheap apartment on Thursday! His secret ledger is in this house, Moretti! Hand it over and we'll let you die quick!"
Inside the vault, Renley’s eyes narrowed.
Secret ledger?
She remembered something.
Two weeks ago, while she was wiping down Mr. Pike's tea table, he had pulled a small, thick black book wrapped in oiled canvas from under his floorboard. He had given her a small bronze key and said, "If I ever miss a Thursday delivery, Renley, take this key to the community kitchen floor safe. Don't give it to the police. Give it to the man who asks for Walter's soup."
Renley reached into her coat pocket. Her fingers wrapped around the cold, heavy bronze key she had carried for fourteen days without understanding why.
Mr. Pike hadn't just been a lonely old man eating free soup. He had been holding the ultimate evidence that could destroy the Moretti syndicate—the very ledger Leo Moretti was willing to kill for tonight.
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Renley looked at the steel door, then at her red bicycle sitting in the corner of the safe room where Dominic had dragged it.
"Mrs. Gable needs her soup," Renley whispered to herself, her small jaw setting into an expression of fierce, stubborn determination. "And Mr. Vance needs his brother's key."
