Chapter 1 - The Extraction
Gabriel Moretti. The name sent a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the freezing Chicago rain outside. He was a ghost in the underworld—a myth of violence and power. And right now, he was bleeding out on my flour sacks.
“Let me see,” I repeated, my voice steadier than my hands.
Gabriel’s jaw locked, but he shifted his massive frame, allowing me to pull back his ruined suit jacket. The bullet had entered his lower right abdomen—a through-and-through, judging by the pool of blood beneath him. It missed his major organs, but the blood loss was critical.
“You need a hospital, Moretti or not,” I whispered, opening my trauma kit.
“My underboss, Silas, bought the cops in this district,” Gabriel ground out, his breathing shallow. “If I go to a hospital, I’m dead. My kids are dead.”
I looked at the twins. They couldn't have been more than three months old. The boy was staring at me with wide, dark eyes, while the girl had finally drifted into an exhausted sleep against her father’s chest.
“I need to clean this. It’s going to burn,” I warned.
“Do it.”
I poured the antiseptic over the wound. Gabriel didn’t scream. He didn’t even flinch. His hand just tightened around the babies’ blanket until his knuckles turned white. Using my old EMT training, I packed the wound with gauze and wrapped his torso tight to apply pressure.
“Why my bakery?” I asked, tying off the bandage.
May you like
“Random,” he murmured, his eyes heavy. “Saw the light. Saw... you.”
Before I could ask what that meant, his eyes rolled back, and his head slumped against the wall. He was out cold. I was officially harboring a fugitive crime boss, and I had two hungry babies to feed.
