Chapter 14 - The Ambush at the Bridge
We left the Cultural Center twenty minutes later.
The snow had begun to fall—thick, wet flakes that coated the streets in a silent blanket of white. Gabriel insisted on escorting me back to the estate himself before dealing with Dominic at the terminal.
The Maybach moved north along Michigan Avenue, crossing the Chicago River bridge.
I sat in the back beside Gabriel, the aluminum preservation case resting securely on the floor between our feet. The tension that had held us rigid all evening had begun to dissolve, leaving behind a heavy, intoxicating intimacy.
Gabriel’s hand rested on the leather seat between us.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned his palm up.
I didn't hesitate. I slid my fingers into his, feeling the rough calluses on his palm, the incredible warmth of his skin. He closed his fingers around mine, gripping my hand as if I were the only real thing in a world made of illusions.
“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmured, staring at our joined hands.
“I was terrified.”
“No one could tell. You stood in a room full of monsters and made them bow to old books.”
“They didn't bow to the books, Gabriel,” I said softly, looking at the sharp profile of his jaw. “They bowed to you.”
“Then they bowed to the wrong thing,” he said, turning his head to look directly into my eyes. His gaze dropped to my lips. “Because tonight... the only thing I want to bow to is—”
*BANG.*
A deafening explosion rocked the car.
The heavy Mercedes lurched violently to the left, metal screaming against concrete as the front tire blew out.
Sam fought the steering wheel, but a second impact—a heavy, armored Ford F-350 slamming into our passenger side—sent the Maybach spinning across the icy lanes of the bridge.
The car crashed into the heavy iron bridge railing, coming to a dead, smoking halt.
“Ambush!” Sam roared from the front, pulling a Glock from beneath his shoulder holster. “Boss, stay down!”
Gabriel didn’t hesitate. In a split second, his arm clamped around my waist, pulling me down across his lap, shielding my head and neck with his entire upper body as automatic gunfire erupted outside.
*Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!*
Bullets hammered against the bulletproof glass of the Maybach like a hail of lead pellets, spider-webbing the thick laminate but failing to penetrate.
“Gabriel!” I cried out, my hands clutching his lapels.
“I have you,” he growled against my ear, his voice deadly calm despite the chaos. “I have you, Clara. Stay down.”
Through the driver’s side window, I saw two black SUVs pull up, blocking both ends of the bridge. Men in tactical gear, carrying short-barreled carbines, stepped out into the swirling snow.
These weren't Dominic’s amateur street thugs.
These were professional mercenaries.
“Moretti,” Gabriel hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure fury. “The old bastard didn't accept the ruling. He played me.”
Sam kicked open the driver’s side door, firing three controlled shots into the darkness before a heavy volley of fire forced him back inside, bleeding from a graze along his forearm.
“Sam, smoke canisters,” Gabriel ordered, reaching into the console between the front seats and pulling out a heavy, matte-black semi-automatic pistol.
“Armed, boss!”
Gabriel looked down at me. His face was inches from mine. In the flashing red reflections of the bridge lights, his eyes were blazing with a terrifying, primal intensity.
“Clara, listen to me,” he said, his voice cutting through the gunfire. “When the smoke deploys, Sam will take the driver’s side. I will clear the rear. You stay flat on this floorboard. Do not move until you hear my voice. Do you trust me?”
I looked into his eyes—the eyes of the man who had packed chicken for my son, the man who had stood sentinel beneath my window, the man who had shielded me with his own body.
“Yes,” I breathed. “I trust you.”
Gabriel leaned down and pressed a hard, fierce, desperate kiss against my lips. It was hot, wild, and tasted of danger and survival.
“Good,” he whispered against my mouth.
May you like
Then, he kicked his door open into the freezing, smoke-filled night.
***