Chapter 10 - The Intimidation Game
Mark was desperate. The Chicago mob deadline was approaching, and his assets were frozen pending the trial. He was a cornered rat, and cornered rats bite.
On Thursday night, I was staying at Sarah's house to pack up some of her remaining clothes. She was being discharged from the hospital the next day, and we were moving her into a secure, gated apartment across town.
At 2:00 AM, the motion sensor lights in the driveway flicked on.
I instantly woke up on the living room sofa, my hand dropping to the Glock resting on the coffee table. I crept to the window and peered through the blinds.
A dark SUV was idling at the curb. A man in a heavy black hoodie walked up the driveway. He wasn't Mark—he was too big, too broad in the shoulders. He carried a heavy crowbar and a red plastic gas can.
He was going to torch the house to destroy any remaining evidence the police might have missed.
I didn't call 911. I didn't have time. I unlocked the front door and stepped out onto the porch, raising my weapon.
"Drop the can and put your hands where I can see them!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the quiet suburban night like a whip.
The man froze, dropping the gas can, but he didn't raise his hands. He reached into his waistband.
I fired a single warning shot into the trunk of the oak tree exactly three inches from his head. The gunshot echoed like a cannon blast.
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The man panicked, abandoning his weapon and sprinting back to the idling SUV. The tires squealed as the truck tore off into the night.
I walked down the driveway, my heart pounding. I looked at the dropped crowbar. Mark hadn't just sent a thug to burn the house down. He was escalating. He knew he was losing.
