Chapter 3 - Blood on the White SheetsThe door opened six inches before Rhett slammed it shut.
A gunshot punched through the wood.
He dragged Isa off the bed as the second bullet shattered the room's wall-mounted monitor. Anton returned fire through the narrow gap, forcing the attacker back into the corridor.
“Emergency exit!” Rhett ordered.
Dr. Mercer appeared from a side room, carrying a medical bag. “There's a service stairwell behind the nurses' station.”
“Take it and go.”
“What about the patient?”
“She's with me.”
Rhett lifted Isa, ignoring her protest when her injured ribs pressed against his chest. They moved through the treatment room's adjoining door while Anton covered their retreat.
The clinic had been chosen precisely because it was secure. Its owner treated judges, executives, and men who preferred to keep their injuries away from public records.
Now someone had walked through its defenses as if the building belonged to him.
That frightened Rhett more than the gunfire.
They reached the service stairwell just as two armed men appeared on the landing below. Anton fired once. The men ducked behind the railing.
“Keep moving!” he shouted.
Rhett carried Isa up one flight, through a maintenance corridor, and onto the roof. Rain slapped his face. The city spread beneath them in a maze of dark streets and shining windows.
A helicopter was not an option. Neither was the front entrance.
At the roof's far end, a second vehicle waited in a neighboring parking structure, reached by a narrow metal bridge built for maintenance workers.
Rhett crossed it with Isa in his arms.
She clutched his shirt, breathing through clenched teeth.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
“You'll fall.”
“Then we'll fall together.”
She looked up at him. Even injured and terrified, she managed an expression of disbelief.
“Do you always speak like you're trying to start a war?”
“Only when someone is shooting at me.”
They reached the other building safely.
Twenty minutes later, Rhett's convoy arrived at a secluded lake house north of the city. It belonged to a shell company he had purchased after his father's death, a property no member of his family knew existed.
At least, that was what he had believed.
While Dr. Mercer treated Isa again, Rhett reviewed the clinic's security logs. A single administrative credential had been used to disable the cameras.
Marcus's credential.
Rhett called his assistant.
“You have five seconds to tell me why your access code was used during an assassination attempt.”
Marcus sounded shocked. “What?”
“Your credentials opened the security system.”
“I didn't do that.”
“Then someone cloned your account.”
“I'll come to you. I'll explain everything.”
“No. You'll stay exactly where you are.”
Rhett ended the call.
Across the room, Isa was awake. She watched him with a tired, knowing expression.
“Your uncle has people everywhere,” she said.
“My uncle has people who answer to me.”
“Does he?”
Rhett looked at her sharply.
She reached for a glass of water but winced when she moved. He crossed the room and held it for her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
“You saved my life,” she said at last.
“Someone tried to kill you. I don't let people attack my household and walk away.”
“That's the only reason?”
Rhett lowered the glass.
He could have lied. He had lied to men with guns, to rival families, to judges, and to himself. But something about Isa's bruised face made deception feel unusually cheap.
“No,” he said.
Her eyes softened, then quickly hardened again, as if she had caught herself making the same mistake.
“Don't do this, Rhett.”
He noticed the absence of his title.
“Do what?”
“Make me believe you care before you know what I've done.”
“Then tell me.”
She stared at him for several seconds.
“I found a page from your father's ledger six months ago. It showed that somebody had paid three men to set the warehouse fire. The payment came from an account belonging to Conrad.”
Rhett said nothing.
“My brother was investigating it when the fire happened. Your uncle arranged everything so Elias would look like the traitor.”
“Why didn't you bring the page to me?”
“Because the page also listed a payment made by your father the night he died.”
Rhett's face changed.
“What payment?”
Isa's voice fell to a whisper.
“A payment to the man who was supposed to kill him.”
For the first time since the clinic attack, Rhett felt truly unsteady.
His father had been the only person he had ever trusted without reservation.
He had built his entire life around avenging the man's death.
“What are you saying?”
“I'm saying my father may not have been the only victim in that warehouse.”
She reached beneath the blanket and drew out a small brass key, attached to a thin chain around her neck.
“I didn't steal your ledger, Rhett. I found the key to the place where your father hid the original.”
Rhett stared at it.
“Where?”
Isa looked toward the dark windows.
“Beneath the church where he was buried.”
His phone rang.
The caller ID displayed CONRAD VALON.
Rhett answered and put it on speaker.
“Rhett, I hear you've had a difficult afternoon,” his uncle said warmly. “I'm relieved to know your little housekeeper is safe.”
Rhett glanced at Isa.
She had gone completely still.
“How did you know where I was?” Rhett asked.
“Family has a way of keeping track of family.”
“Who attacked her?”
Conrad sighed, almost sadly.
“Your father always said curiosity was the one weakness that could bring down a Valon. I'm beginning to think he was right.”
“Answer me.”
“Bring the girl home, Rhett. Whatever she told you, she is not worth starting a war over.”
Conrad paused.
Then his voice lost its warmth.
“And if that key is what I think it is, you have until midnight to give it to me.”
The call ended.
Rhett looked down at the brass key in Isa's trembling hand.
His uncle had just confirmed that the ledger was real.
He had also confirmed one other thing.
May you like
He knew exactly what Isa had found.
And he was willing to burn Chicago to get it back.
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