Chapter 8 #2
I release her neck. The absence of her skin against my palm aches. I cross the tunnel and retrieve her bag. I sling the strap across my chest. I grab my secondary flashlight from the table and walk toward the flood door.
The iron wheel is heavy. Rusted shut with decades of moisture and neglect. I grip the metal bars. The muscles in my arms bunch and strain.
I throw my weight into the turn.
The metal groans. A horrific, ear-piercing shriek of rusted iron breaking free. Flakes of orange rust shower down on my boots. I force the wheel counter-clockwise. The locking mechanism clanks.
The door swings inward.
A rush of freezing, stagnant air hits my face. The smell of ancient river water and raw sewage. The pipe is a six-foot-diameter concrete tube, half-submerged in black water. There is no light. No end in sight. Just a gaping maw leading into the belly of the city.
The bad timing on that Bellanti broadcast scrapes against the back of my skull.
A sudden, jarring thought cutting through the adrenaline.
That fake Bellanti broadcast claiming she was a Trojan horse plant.
The data packet hit the Costa network hours before she even defected.
It defies physics. It defies logic. Something didn't line up. A blind spot somewhere in the chain.
I shove the thought away. I bury it deep. It's a problem for another hour. Right now, getting her out is the only job.
I step into the freezing water. It rises past the tops of my tactical boots. The cold is a violent shock, biting into my calves.
I turn back to Catalina. She is standing at the edge of the pipe. Looking at the black water.
I extend my hand to her. Calloused palm, dirt and blood smeared across the knuckles.
"Take my hand. Don't let go."
She steps forward. She places her small, soft hand directly into mine. The contrast is devastating. Beauty and the beast. The mafia princess and the feral enforcer. Our fingers interlock. Her grip is tight.
She steps down into the water. She gasps as the freezing temperature hits her legs, but she doesn't complain. She wades forward, pulling tight against my side.
I click on the flashlight. A narrow beam of white light pierces the suffocating darkness of the pipe. The concrete walls are slick with algae and slime. The water level reaches my knees, which means it hits mid-thigh on her.
We move forward.
The journey is an agonizing crawl. The water resistance fights every step. The freezing temperature saps the heat from our bodies. The silence inside the pipe is deep, broken only by the sloshing of our movement and our harsh breathing.
Every instinct I possess is dialed to maximum alert. I scan the darkness ahead. My grip on the Sig is white-knuckled under the surface. I'm waiting for an ambush. For the water to hide a trap.
Catalina shakes hard against my side. Her teeth chatter. The cold is hollowing her out too fast.
"Keep moving," I tell her, my voice echoing off the curved concrete. "Just keep your eyes on my back. I've got you."
"I'm keeping up." She forces the words out through chattering teeth. The defiance is gone, replaced by raw grit. She refuses to be a burden. She refuses to break.
Something in my chest goes very still watching her hold the line. She isn't just surviving. She's walking into the dark with the enemy, trusting him to get her through it.
The pipe begins to slope upward. The water level drops. The freezing liquid recedes from her thighs to her knees, then to her ankles.
A faint, gray light appears in the distance. The exit grate.
We push harder. The final fifty yards are a sprint against exhaustion. My frame is aching from the adrenaline crash. My hands are numb from the cold. But the need to get her clear fuels every step. I will drag her across the finish line with my teeth if I have to.
We reach the grate. The iron bars are crusted with river debris. Through the gaps, the neon lights of the Chicago skyline reflect off the black surface of the river. The bitter wind off Lake Michigan howls through the metal.
I shake the river off the Sig and holster it. I grip the iron bars and heave.
The grate tears free of its rusted hinges and drops heavily into the water outside.
I step out onto the muddy embankment. The freezing wind hits my soaked clothing like a barrage of needles. I turn and reach back into the pipe. I grab Catalina by the waist and haul her out into the open air.
She collapses against my chest. She's shaking hard. Her clothes are soaked with freezing river water. Her lips are tinged blue.
I strip my tactical jacket off. I don't care about the cold hitting my own skin.
I wrap the insulated material around her small shoulders.
The jacket hangs off her shoulders. The scent of motor oil and smoke envelops her.
I pull the lapels tight across her chest, trapping whatever body heat she has left.
My lips find her temple. A single kiss. Warm breath against cold skin. She lifts her chin without being asked. Her eyes meet mine. They are clear. No fear. No regret. Just terrifying trust.
"We made it." She whispers.
"They missed." I correct her. My voice is a low, dangerous rumble. "And they'll never get a second chance."
I pull the encrypted burner phone from the waterproof pouch sewn into my tactical vest. I punch in Dante's direct extraction line. The signal connects on the first ring.
"We need a vehicle." I bark into the receiver. The wind whips my words away. "Riverwalk access. South of the bridge. Bring heavy backup. The speakeasy is burned."
"Ten minutes." Dante's voice is flat. The enforcer is locked in.
I hang up. I shove the phone away.
I wrap my arms around Catalina. I tuck her against me and block the biting wind with my back. I bury my face in her wet hair. Her scent is faint, washed away by the river, but it's still there. It's the only thing keeping me on this side of the line.
The Bellanti family tried to take her from me tonight. They tried to put a bullet in the first thing that has ever felt like peace.
They woke something Dominic spent twenty years holding back.
I stare out over the water of the Chicago River. The city skyline glitters with indifference.
The Costa-Bellanti war just escalated. There are no more shadows. There are no more games. I'm going to tear this city down brick by brick to keep her safe.
She is mine.
And I'm taking her home.