Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Dominic jumped up from the couch, buttoning his jeans. Maureen had just cried out downstairs. He ran for the closed door to the hall, then stopped to look back at Sylvie. Something was wrong with her computer, too. He didn’t understand what was happening.
“I need to go check on—”
“Yeah. Go.” Sylvie barely glanced at him. Her fingers flew over her keyboard.
He threw open the door and dashed down the back staircase. Maureen was in the kitchen. She saw him and pointed toward the front of the house.
“I saw a man outside in the front yard. He has a black ski mask on. I was going to call 911, but I can’t find my phone.”
“I will.” Dominic took out his device with one hand and wrapped the other around the woman’s shoulders. “Sylvie’s in the game room. Go upstairs. Both of you need to hide.”
It’s my uncle, he thought. That fucker.
Maureen screamed again. “Look!” Through the blinds of the kitchen window, a dark shape loomed into view.
“Get down.” Dominic dragged the woman to the tile floor just as a shot tore through the kitchen, thudding into a cabinet beside the Sub-Zero refrigerator. “Stay there. Don’t move.”
He crawled toward a cabinet door and threw it open. A Glock 19 was duct taped to the underside of the sink.
Dominic peeled the tape away and aimed the weapon at one window, then another. At the first sign of movement, he squeezed off a shot. A bullet hole appeared in the glass, webbed with cracks. The figure darted out of view.
“Upstairs,” he commanded to Maureen.
“Is the security system on? The doors are all locked, but if they try to break in—”
“I’ll check. Just go.”
Maureen hunched over and ran for the back staircase.
Dominic edged toward the patio doors. He couldn’t see anyone out on the deck. He confirmed that the doors were locked, then continued through the living room.
It wasn’t hard to imagine what was happening.
Apparently, his Uncle Charles had denied his request for more time.
Dominic should’ve expected this, yet the abrupt violence of this attack had blindsided him.
He’d thought their family connection would be enough to buy him at least a few weeks of peace.
But it hadn’t, and now Maureen and Sylvie were in danger because of him. Guilt closed around his throat. Dominic couldn’t let anything happen to them.
Watching the front windows, he dialed 911. “Yes, my name is Dominic Crane. Someone’s trying to kill me in my home. No, I can’t hold. Just send help. Patrol car, SWAT team, anything.”
He gave them his address, hung up, and dialed the number for Bennett Security next. Not Max Bennett, but their emergency line, which Dominic had programmed into his contacts. He’d been worried something like this could happen eventually.
But not with Sylvie here. Not in broad daylight.
He wished she’d brought along that burly bodyguard from her last visit. But Dominic had mocked her for that, hadn’t he? He’d been such an idiot, pretending that he was the greatest threat to Sylvie in this house.
If someone hurt her, it would be on him.
“Sir, I don’t see an alarm activation. Did you hit your panic button?”
“I don’t even know if my system is working.”
Beside the front door, the panel for his security system was blinking red. He didn’t know what that meant.
“Sylvie Trousseau is here with me. I’m guessing she’s your boss. So send some of those trained bodyguards with guns to my home address right fucking now.”
If nobody could get here in time—or if they didn’t care to bother—Dominic would turn himself over to save the others. But only after he put up a fight. The rest of the Syndicate might think he was weak, but he wasn’t going to just roll over.
Keeping his back against one wall, his gun ready, Dominic inched closer to the door. His insides felt like everything had spun around and switched places. Since he was a teenager, violence had been a part of his life. Yet he’d never gotten used to it.
I’m going to protect Sylvie and Maureen, he swore to himself. Whatever it takes.
As he watched the window in the door, a shape darted across the front of the house. He pulled back.
Then something red smeared across the glass.
What the fuck?
His nausea rose. It was blood. They were smearing blood on his door.
A warning. But whose blood? Whose?
Dominic waited for someone to try breaking in. The glass in the windows of this house was tempered and strong, but it would shatter under enough pressure. He couldn’t tell if anyone was coming.
But what if they climbed onto the upstairs balconies? What if they breached the upstairs windows instead?
Dominic ran for the staircase.
The door to the game room was closed. “Who’s there?” Sylvie said from inside. She must’ve heard his footsteps.
“It’s me. I’m coming in.”
“Wait. I’m unlocking it.”
When she opened the door, Sylvie held a Glock at her side.
“Did you bring that with you?” He shut the door behind him and locked it.
“No, it’s yours. Maureen got it for me.” Sylvie gestured at the couch. “She knew where you’d hidden it.”
“Don’t mention it to Max. These guns are all unregistered.” He had weapons stashed in other parts of the house too. In his line of work—well, former line of work—one never knew. He’d certainly get his bail revoked if the DA found out, but he had bigger problems.
Maureen’s face had taken on a pale shade of green. “The police are sending help?”
“I hope so. We’ll see.” He pointed at Sylvie’s computer, which lay closed on the table. “What was going on with your laptop?”
“Someone was trying to hack my machine. They nearly succeeded. I had to shut down the internet connections. But I can’t access anything now. Not headquarters, not our network, not your security system. I’m blind. I turned off my phone, too.”
“What about that man who shot at us?” Maureen asked.
“I don’t know if they’re still here.” His nerves were on edge as he listened for noise from downstairs. He didn’t know how many men there might be, what they were planning. Whether they just wanted to warn Dominic or had other intentions.
Sylvie peeked through the closed blinds. “The attempted breach on my laptop cannot be a coincidence. I’ve seen this kind of thing before. A cyberattack at the same time as a physical one. The Syndicate, right?”
“Probably. So you know how to shoot?”
“Yeah. Max makes all his employees spend time in the gun range.”
“That’s smart.” Dominic dragged the heavy couch over to block the door. “You both should stay down, in case they get upstairs and start shooting.”
“What about you?” Sylvie asked.
“I’ll give them something else to aim at.”
She frowned but took Maureen to a corner, where they crouched down together.
Dominic stayed in the center of the room, aiming his gun at the barricaded door. Still nothing from downstairs.
In his peripheral vision, Maureen was trembling slightly.
She’d known about his role in the Syndicate since not long after he hired her.
He’d made sure she understood that his life—and therefore hers—could be in danger.
She’d confirmed she could keep quiet and out of his business, so long as he didn’t bring his work home and paid her an above-market rate.
But it was different facing something like this in reality, rather than in the abstract.
Sylvie was completely calm and collected. He had no idea what was going through her head. If she was scared, in shock. Angry.
He wished he could hold Sylvie’s hand to reassure her. And maybe himself.
Sweat trickled down his sides.
In the eerie silence, Dominic allowed himself to think about what Sylvie had confessed—that she’d never had an orgasm before.
At first, when she’d pulled away from him, he was the one who’d been embarrassed.
Satisfying a woman was one of the few things that Dominic could usually get right. And yet, he’d failed.
He was willing to experiment with her. In fact, he’d been looking forward to it. They could do whatever she felt comfortable doing, and they’d both probably learn from the experience. Not to mention having a hell of a lot of fun.
But this attack, whatever was really going on, had put a damper on those plans. He couldn’t imagine that Sylvie would be able to forget who he was ever again.
After today, she’d probably want nothing more to do with him.
“What was that?” Sylvie asked.
Maureen squeezed Dominic’s arm. He held his breath.
There was the crash of something heavy against an exterior door. The splintering of wood. Maureen gasped. Dominic’s arms ached as he pointed the Glock at the barricaded doorway. His heart drummed against his ribcage. Somebody was in the house. But who?
A shout came from downstairs. “Police!”
Sylvie crawled toward the window and peeked between the blinds. “I see a SWAT van. And half a dozen squad cars are just pulling up.”
Dominic closed his eyes for one brief moment of relief. But he wasn’t out of danger yet. He pulled the magazine from his Glock and hid both items under a cabinet. “I need to hide your gun.”
Sylvie yanked the magazine. “I’ll do it.”
“Could you call the police back now? Tell them where we are?”
Dominic held out his phone. She accepted it. “Why can’t you?”
He knelt on the carpet. “I’m going to lie down on the floor with my hands spread so the SWAT team doesn’t shoot me on sight.”