Chapter 4 - THE BASEMENT ATTACK
Belle heard the first bullet strike the refrigerator.
The second shattered a cabinet.
The third disappeared into the wall above Micah’s bed.
For one suspended second, nobody moved.
Then Renick became someone else.
“Stay down.”
His voice was quiet.
Absolute.
Belle pulled Micah beneath her body.
One of Renick’s guards rushed toward the kitchen.
Another shouted into his radio.
“Rear breach! Rear breach!”
More glass broke.
Belle smelled dust and gunpowder.
Micah’s face pressed against her shoulder.
“Mom.”
“I’ve got you.”
Her own voice shook.
She hated that.
Children could hear fear in adults even when adults believed they hid it.
Renick fired once toward the hallway.
A man cried out.
Then came heavy footsteps.
The apartment door slammed against the wall.
Belle caught a glimpse of a masked figure.
Black jacket.
Gray gloves.
Gun raised.
Renick reached him first.
The collision was violent and fast.
Renick struck the man’s wrist against the doorframe.
The gun fell.
Sully came through behind another guard.
The attacker twisted free and lunged toward the bedroom.
Not toward the exit.
Toward the metal box.
Belle saw it.
So did Renick.
“Take Micah!”
Sully grabbed the boy.
Belle resisted on instinct.
“Go!” Renick shouted.
She ran.
They escaped through the rear laundry door into the narrow alley behind the building.
Cold rain hit Belle’s face.
A black SUV waited with its rear door open.
Sully shoved Micah inside.
Belle climbed after him.
Gunfire cracked behind them.
The driver accelerated before the doors fully closed.
Micah shook against her.
Belle wrapped both arms around him.
“Mr. Kavanaugh?”
Sully turned from the front passenger seat.
“He’ll follow.”
“Is he hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
“Turn around.”
“No.”
“That is my apartment!”
“And somebody just shot it.”
“All our things are there.”
Sully looked back.
“Things can be replaced.”
Belle stared at him.
Easy words from a man who lived inside a mansion.
She looked at Micah.
His school backpack.
His books.
Owen’s few remaining photographs.
The chipped mug her mother gave her.
The shoebox containing every birthday card Micah had ever made.
A life assembled from objects nobody else would consider valuable.
And now bullets had torn through it because Renick Kavanaugh came to her door.
Anger began replacing fear.
“Where are we going?”
“The estate.”
“No.”
“Belle.”
“No.”
Sully exhaled.
“The people who attacked your apartment knew about the box within minutes of us opening it.”
Belle went still.
“What are you saying?”
“Someone was watching.”
Micah spoke from her arms.
“The red car.”
Belle looked down.
“What?”
He stared out the wet window.
“There was a red car outside after school yesterday.”
Sully turned fully around.
“What kind?”
“Old.”
“Sedan?”
Micah nodded.
“Did you see the driver?”
“No.”
“How long was it there?”
Micah shrugged.
“Until dinner.”
Belle closed her eyes.
She had noticed nothing.
That realization cut deeply.
“What else?” Sully asked.
Micah thought.
“There was a sticker.”
“What sticker?”
“A lighthouse.”
Sully’s expression changed.
Belle noticed.
“You know it.”
“No.”
“You do.”
Sully looked forward.
“Years ago, Kavanaugh Security used lighthouse decals on certain fleet vehicles.”
Belle stared.
“Your own people were watching my house?”
“Those vehicles were retired.”
“Apparently not.”
The SUV crossed the river.
By the time they reached the Kavanaugh estate, the rain had become a hard silver curtain.
Brinley was awake.
She stood in the entry hall wearing red pajamas beneath a wool coat, clutching a stuffed rabbit.
When she saw Micah, she ran.
“Micah Bird!”
The boy climbed from the SUV.
Brinley threw both arms around him.
Belle almost cried.
Not because it was sweet.
Because less than an hour earlier somebody had fired bullets through the wall above his bed.
Children should not be relieved to see one another alive.
A woman hurried down the stairs.
Late thirties.
Elegant.
Blond.
She knelt beside Brinley.
“Sweetheart, I told you to stay upstairs.”
Brinley clung tighter to Micah.
The woman’s eyes moved to Belle.
“You must be the housekeeper.”
Belle disliked her instantly.
Not because of the word.
Because of the way she said it.
Sully said, “Belle Ashford. This is Maeve Kavanaugh.”
Renick’s sister.
Maeve offered a thin smile.
“I heard about your son. Extraordinary.”
“He got lucky.”
“No. Brinley got lucky.”
Belle nodded.
Maeve looked toward the doors.
“Where’s Renick?”
Sully’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face hardened.
Then relaxed slightly.
“He’s alive.”
Belle released a breath she had not realized she was holding.
Micah heard.
So did Maeve.
Something unreadable passed across the woman’s face.
Twenty minutes later Renick arrived.
Blood marked his collar.
Belle stood.
Micah moved first.
“Are you hurt?”
Renick looked almost startled that someone had asked.
“Not mine.”
Belle studied him.
His knuckles were split.
His tie was gone.
His expression had closed completely.
“The attacker?”
“Dead.”
Silence.
Brinley buried her face against Maeve’s coat.
Renick noticed.
His jaw tightened.
He knelt.
“Hey.”
Brinley looked at him.
“Nothing is going to happen here.”
Belle nearly interrupted.
He could not promise that.
Then she understood.
He was not speaking as a crime boss.
He was speaking as a father.
Renick stood.
“The second man escaped.”
Belle stared.
“There were two?”
“One fired through the front. One came through the kitchen.”
“And they wanted the box?”
“Yes.”
“Who were they?”
“One had no identification.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then Micah and I are leaving.”
Renick’s eyes flashed.
“To where?”
“A hotel.”
“They found your home.”
“Because you came there.”
“That’s possible.”
“It’s obvious.”
Maeve spoke quietly.
“Renick.”
He ignored her.
Belle stepped closer.
“My son saved your daughter. That does not make him part of your war.”
“No.”
“Then let us go.”
Renick looked at Micah.
Then at Brinley.
The two children stood shoulder to shoulder.
Finally he said, “Stay until morning.”
Belle shook her head.
“One night.”
“No.”
“Your apartment is an active crime scene. Anyone involved already knows your name, your address, your son’s school, and potentially whatever your husband hid seven years ago.”
That stopped her.
Renick lowered his voice.
“If you walk out those gates tonight, I cannot protect you.”
“I never asked for your protection.”
“No. Your husband did.”
Belle went cold.
“What?”
Renick reached into his coat.
He removed a second folded page.
“I found this behind the photograph in Declan’s safe.”
Belle unfolded it.
The writing was not Owen’s.
It was a typed security memo dated three weeks before his death.
SUBJECT: ASHFORD, OWEN
REQUEST: FAMILY PROTECTION PROTOCOL IF SUBJECT FAILS TO CHECK IN.
DEPENDENTS:
WIFE — ISABELLA ASHFORD
INFANT SON — MICAH ASHFORD
AUTHORIZED BY:
R. KAVANAUGH
Belle looked up.
“You?”
Renick shook his head slowly.
“I never saw this.”
“Your initial.”
“My father’s name was Ronan Cormac Kavanaugh on legal documents.”
Belle stared at him.
“Your father ordered protection for us?”
“Apparently.”
“Then why did nobody come?”
That question struck deeper than accusation.
Renick looked at Sully.
Sully had gone pale.
Belle turned.
“You worked for his father.”
Sully did not answer.
“Did you know Owen?”
His silence stretched.
Renick’s voice sharpened.
“Sully.”
The older man removed his glasses.
For the first time Belle saw fear in him.
Not fear of Renick.
Fear of memory.
“Yes,” he said.
Belle’s knees weakened.
“You knew my husband?”
May you like
Sully looked at her.
“I was there the night he died.”
