Chapter 4 - The Standoff at the BoathouseBy 4:45 A.M., a heavy, freezing fog hung over Lake Michigan, blanketing the dark waters and the pine woods surrounding the Falcone estate in a dense, quiet mist.
Inside the rusted interior of the old wooden boathouse, Gabriel sat on an overturned timber crate while I wrapped his upper chest with clean linen bandages from the secondary medical kit kept inside the boathouse locker.
His broad shoulders were covered in dark bruises from the three non-lethal bullet grazes he had sustained during the warehouse ambush, but his hands were steady as mountain granite as he loaded a heavy silver snub-nosed revolver retrieved from a hidden floor compartment beneath the floorboards.
"Carmine believes he owns my lieutenants, Matilda," Gabriel spoke cleanly, his storm-gray eyes locking onto mine as I secured the medical tape over his shoulder. "He bought off the secondary captains with promises of territory in Boston and New York. But he forgot one fundamental truth about the Chicago Outfit."
"What truth, Mr. Falcone?" I asked softly, setting the scissors down.
Gabriel reached out his broad hand, gently taking my chin into his fingers, lifting my face so I looked directly into his eyes.
"They don't fear the empire," Gabriel stated, every word dropped into the quiet boathouse like a heavy slab of cold iron. "They fear me."
CRUNCH.
The sharp sound of gravel crushing beneath heavy combat boots echoed from the treeline thirty feet outside the boathouse door.
Through the gaps in the weathered timber walls, six broad-shouldered security operators clad in dark tactical gear swept toward the building, led by Carmine’s chief enforcer, Victor.
"Check the boathouse!" Victor barked softly to his men. "Dr. Vance said he saw the maid dragging someone toward the east grounds!"
I went completely still, my heart taking a sudden leap into my throat.
Gabriel didn't flinch. He stood up fluidly from the timber crate, his broad six-foot-two frame towering over me, his hand gently pushing me behind a stack of thick canvas boat covers near the back wall.
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"Stay down, Matilda," Gabriel whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my cheek. "And don't close your eyes."
He stepped up to the side of the heavy wooden double doors, holding his revolver steady at his hip.
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