Chapter 10 - The Price of a Recipe
“Julian,” Marcus growled, his knuckles white around the grip of his pistol, though he didn't lower it. “You took a long trip for nothing.”
“Did I?” Julian Moretti stepped out of the shadow, a thin, cruel smile playing across his lips. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit that didn't have a single speck of dust on it, despite the night's violent chaos in New Orleans. “My brother’s men searched every smoking timber of Callahan’s estate four hours ago. The safe was blown. The desk was empty. But security logs showed a civilian waitress walking out through the private tunnels with Callahan himself.”
Julian’s cold, dark eyes slowly shifted past Marcus, locking directly onto me through the glass door of the deck.
A shiver raced down my spine. I instinctively pressed my hand against the apron pocket where the flash drive rested.
“She’s just a kid, Julian,” Marcus said, shifting his weight slightly to block Julian’s line of sight. “She doesn't have what you're looking for.”
“Let her speak for herself, Marcus,” Julian replied smoothly, raising his silenced pistol just a fraction higher. “Or I can put a bullet through your knee and ask her while you bleed out on the hardwood. Your choice.”
Before Marcus could react, I slid the glass door open and stepped into the living room.
“Leave him alone,” I said, my voice shaking only slightly. “I have what you want.”
Julian’s smile widened, a gleam of triumph flashing in his eyes. “Well, well. The talented little waitress. Eda Boudreaux always did have a soft spot for strays. Hand it over, Tessa. The flash drive. And nobody in this room has to die today.”
I reached into my pocket, my fingers wrapping tightly around the black polymer drive.
If I handed it to him, Moretti would win. Beaumont House would fall, Ronan’s empire would crumble, and my father and I would spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.
“You think Moretti will let us walk away once you get this?” I asked, my voice hardening as a strange, fierce calmness settled over me—the same calm Eda had taught me when the pan got too hot and the meat began to burn. “Eda’s ledger has the names of every judge, police captain, and politician in your pocket, Julian. The moment you get that drive, you'll kill us all to keep it quiet.”
Julian’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold, murderous glare. “You overestimate your value, little girl.”
He raised his weapon toward my chest.
Marcus moved with lightning speed, diving to the side and firing twice.
Pop-pop!
Julian cursed, stumbling backward as one of Marcus’s bullets grazed his shoulder, shattering a ceramic vase against the wall behind him. Julian’s guards swarmed through the front door in a wave of tactical black, returning fire with deafening automatic weapons.
“Get down!” Marcus roared, shoving me hard behind the heavy oak dining table as plaster exploded overhead.
Chaos erupted in the small house. Bullets chewed through the walls, shattering windows and filling the air with dust and splinters. My father cried out in terror from the back bedroom, waking up to a nightmare he never could have imagined.
I pulled the flash drive out of my pocket, staring at it in the dim, chaotic light.
I couldn't let them have it.
Across the room, Julian Moretti was shouting orders, pushing his way through the smoke toward our position, his pistol raised.
I looked at the heavy brick fireplace beside the dining table. A dying amber ember still glowed beneath the ash from the previous night.
With a sudden surge of adrenaline, I jumped up from behind the table, sprinted toward the hearth, and hurled the flash drive directly into the hottest part of the remaining embers.
“NO!” Julian screamed, lunging forward with a furious roar.
A fraction of a second later, the intense heat of the embers triggered the internal self-destruct thermal fuse inside the polymer casing.
Crack!
A bright flash of blue-white light flared from the fireplace, followed by a sharp hiss as the data chips melted instantly into a useless lump of slag and ash.
Julian grabbed me by the collar of my uniform, slamming me against the brick mantelpiece, his face contorted in murderous rage. “You stupid little bitch! What did you do?!”
I looked right into his eyes, gasping for air, and smiled.
“I followed the recipe,” I whispered.
May you like
Before Julian could raise his pistol to strike me, the front windows of the house shattered inward with an earth-shattering roar.
A heavy, matte-black armored vehicle crashed right through the exterior wall of the living room, sending Moretti's men scattering in terror. The heavy steel door of the vehicle swung open instantly, and standing in the wreckage, gun drawn and eyes blazing with cold fury, was Ronan Callahan.
