Chapter 8 - The Breach At The West Wing
Viktor did not draw a weapon, but his posture shifted into a combat stance.
"I don't care about family politics, Ryan," Viktor said in his low, gravelly monotone.
"I am paid to enforce the trust's security perimeter."
"The trust agreement specifies that unauthorized dependents found on corporate-owned residential property must be turned over to corporate custody."
"This house is deeded to Sterling Global Ventures, not to you personally."
"Technically, you are trespassing on board property."
Mia buried her face in Ryan's neck, her tiny fingers digging into the wool of his sweater.
"Daddy, the bad man is here," she whimpered.
"Close your eyes, Mia," Ryan whispered against her hair.
"Cover your ears and don't open them until I tell you."
Downstairs, the sound of Emily's screaming echoed up the spiral staircase.
Michael was shouting orders into his phone in the marble foyer.
Ryan calculated the distance between himself and Viktor.
Four yards.
To the left of the closet was an antique walnut dressing table holding a heavy bronze lamp shaped like an eagle.
Ryan didn't try to reason with Viktor.
Corporate security men like Viktor did not have consciences; they had offshore wire transfers.
Ryan faked a step to the right toward the en-suite bathroom, drawing Viktor's balance forward.
As Viktor lunged to block the doorway, Ryan swung his free right arm, grabbing the heavy bronze lamp by its base and whipping it across the space.
The bronze base caught Viktor flush against the side of his jaw with a sickening crack.
The heavy man stumbled backward into the doorframe, blood spurting from a jagged split on his cheek.
He grunted, dropping to one knee as his hand went for the holster beneath his left armpit.
Ryan didn't wait for him to recover.
He slammed his heavy boot directly into Viktor's chest, kicking him out onto the plush carpet of the master bedroom.
Ryan bolted past the groaning guard, carrying Mia in his arms, and sprinted down the long north corridor toward the historic servants' wing.
He didn't take the main staircase down to the foyer where Michael and Julian were waiting.
He kicked open the service door leading down to the original 1920s kitchen pantry.
Down the wooden spiral steps he flew, Mia clutched tightly against his ribs.
He hit the ground floor, bursting through the industrial kitchen into the rear courtyard.
The cold night air hit them like a bucket of ice water.
A heavy rain had started to fall over Westchester, turning the manicured lawns into slick, black mud.
Through the downpour, Ryan could see the headlights of a second security SUV idling near the back service gate.
Two men in waterproof jackets were stepping out, carrying heavy flashlights.
"He’s heading for the carriage house!" someone shouted through the rain.
Ryan veered right, darting behind the dense boxwood hedges that lined the Olympic swimming pool pavilion.
His heart was hammering at its maximum capacity.
His breath burned in his lungs.
Mia was crying silently against his chest, following his instructions not to make a sound.
Ryan slipped his hand into his pocket and dialed Marcus Vance’s direct line on speakerphone.
Marcus answered on the first ring.
"Marcus, they breached the house," Ryan panted, crouching behind the stone pillar of the pool pavilion.
"Michael brought private contractors to extract Mia."
"Where are you?" Marcus demanded, background noise indicating he was already moving.
"I'm pinned behind the pool pavilion at the Westchester estate," Ryan said.
"They have the main gates blocked."
"I have Mia, but they're sweeping the grounds with searchlights."
"Listen to me carefully, Ryan," Marcus’s voice cut through the rain with razor-sharp urgency.
"Two miles south of your property, the old state parkway access road runs parallel to the aqueduct."
"I contacted the New York State Police Special Victims Unit twenty minutes ago."
"I bypassed the local Westchester precinct because Michael has the county sheriff on his payroll."
"State troopers and the state attorney general's tactical division are four minutes out."
"Do not let Michael's men take that girl."
"If she leaves that property line in their vehicle, they will cross state borders before dawn, and our jurisdiction collapses."
A flashlight beam swept across the stone pillar, missing Ryan’s shoulder by inches.
Heavy footsteps sloshed through the wet grass thirty yards away.
"Ryan!" Michael’s voice boomed through an electric megaphone from the terrace above.
"Don't do this, Ryan!"
"You are destroying your life!"
"Think of Lucas!"
"Think of what happens to Lucas if both his parents go to federal prison for corporate embezzlement!"
"Give me the child, and we settle this as brothers!"
Ryan looked down at Mia.
Her face was wet with rain, her hazel eyes reflecting the sweeping searchlights.
"I'm not letting them take you," Ryan whispered into her forehead.
May you like
"Never again."
He stood up, tucked Mia firmly under his left arm, and sprinted into the darkness of the surrounding woods toward the aqueduct trail.
