The Price of Standing in Front
Chapter 13 - The Price of Standing in Front
The bullet passed through Gabriel’s shoulder.
Norah learned this because he told her so while lying on the floor.
“It missed the artery.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been shot before.”
“This is not the moment to become interesting.”
His mouth moved.
“You think I’m interesting?”
“Shut up.”
Another shot cracked through the house.
Daniel pulled Norah behind the stone fireplace.
Gabriel pressed one hand against his shoulder.
Blood ran between his fingers.
Norah tore the lining from her coat and pushed it against the wound.
He inhaled sharply.
“Sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“No.”
Outside, men shouted.
Then another voice came through the loudspeaker.
Marco.
“Daniel! Bring out the recorder.”
Daniel looked at Norah.
“They know.”
“Of course they know. Apparently everyone knows everything five minutes before I do.”
Gabriel’s breath shook with something that might have been a laugh.
Norah glared.
“This is not funny.”
“No.”
“It is a little,” Daniel said.
She turned on him.
“Not you.”
The absurdity lasted one second.
Then Gabriel’s face tightened in pain.
Norah pressed harder against his shoulder.
“Where is your security?”
“Three minutes out.”
“You came in alone?”
“Yes.”
“You absolute idiot.”
“You told me not to surround the house.”
“I did not tell you to get shot.”
Daniel crawled toward the kitchen.
Norah grabbed his sleeve.
“Where are you going?”
“There’s a cellar door.”
“You knew about it?”
“This was one of our safe houses.”
“Of course it was.”
Daniel looked at Gabriel.
“Can you move?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Norah said.
Gabriel pushed himself up anyway.
They reached the cellar as another window shattered.
The basement smelled of dust and old wood.
Daniel opened a hidden exterior door behind shelving.
Cold air swept in.
A narrow path led toward the lake.
They stepped outside.
A figure emerged from the trees.
Ezra.
Norah froze.
He held a gun.
Gabriel shifted in front of her despite the blood soaking his shirt.
Ezra lowered the weapon.
“Security is coming from the road. Marco has six men. Isabella has two.”
“Whose side are you on?” Norah asked.
Ezra looked at her.
“Tonight?”
“That is not reassuring.”
“Yours.”
He handed Gabriel a radio.
Gabriel refused it.
“You killed Victor.”
“I know.”
“You lied to me for four years.”
“I know.”
“And now you expect me to trust you with Norah?”
Ezra’s expression tightened.
“No. I expect you to trust that I want Marco alive long enough to stand in court.”
A gunshot sounded from the house.
Daniel flinched.
Ezra looked at him.
For the first time since returning, the two men faced each other.
Daniel swallowed.
“Ezra.”
“My aunt was alive when you left her.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And you kept the recording.”
“Yes.”
Ezra’s hand tightened around the gun.
Norah stepped between them before she had time to consider whether it was wise.
“Not here.”
Ezra looked at her.
“He left her in the road.”
“I know.”
“You think because he’s your father—”
“I think if you shoot him, Sofia becomes an excuse you use for becoming another man who decides death is justice.”
Ezra stared.
The words hurt him.
She could see that.
Good.
After a long moment, he lowered the gun completely.
Daniel’s eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry.”
Ezra’s voice was quiet.
“I don’t want your apology.”
Daniel nodded.
“I know.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Marco’s men began retreating toward the road.
Then Norah heard a child crying.
Everyone stopped.
The sound came from the house.
“Lucia,” Gabriel said.
He moved.
Norah caught him.
“You cannot go back.”
“My niece is inside.”
Daniel stared at the house.
“Isabella brought her?”
Ezra’s face went pale.
“She said Lucia was in Geneva.”
Gabriel pulled free.
This time nobody tried to stop him.
Norah followed.
“Stay outside,” he said.
“No.”
“Norah.”
“You have one functioning arm.”
“That still gives me one more than I want you to use.”
“Keep walking.”
They entered through the cellar.
Smoke had begun filling the first floor.
A curtain burned near the broken window.
Someone had started a fire.
“Lucia!” Gabriel shouted.
A child cried upstairs.
Gabriel took the stairs two at a time.
Norah followed until Daniel grabbed her.
“Let him.”
“No.”
“You can’t help him if you pass out.”
She wanted to argue.
Then Isabella appeared at the top of the staircase.
She held Lucia by the hand.
The eight-year-old was crying.
Isabella held a pistol in the other.
Gabriel stopped halfway up.
“Give her to me.”
Isabella laughed.
“You really do think you’re the only one who loves her.”
“She’s terrified.”
“She’s terrified because men are shooting at her mother’s house.”
“This is not your house.”
“You know what I mean.”
Lucia sobbed.
“Mommy, I want Uncle Gabe.”
Isabella’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But Norah saw it.
Gabriel did too.
He lowered his voice.
“Isa. Give her to me.”
“Then what?”
“We leave.”
“And you hand me to the police?”
“Yes.”
Isabella laughed again.
“You could lie.”
“I won’t.”
“Exactly.”
Smoke thickened.
Lucia coughed.
Norah stepped into view.
Isabella pointed the gun toward her.
Gabriel moved instantly.
“Don’t.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed.
“So that’s what this is.”
“What?”
“The secretary.”
Norah almost sighed.
“Please do not make this about jealousy. We have enough going on.”
Even Gabriel looked at her.
Isabella blinked.
Then, despite herself, she laughed.
It broke something.
The gun lowered an inch.
Norah continued.
“Lucia doesn’t care about Halcyon. She doesn’t care who Vittorio wanted to inherit what. She is eight. She wants to get out of a burning house.”
Isabella looked at her daughter.
The child’s face was wet.
“Mommy.”
Norah spoke softly.
“You can still make one decision tonight that she remembers as love.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
Then she released Lucia’s hand.
The girl ran.
Gabriel caught her with his good arm.
At that exact moment, Marco stepped from the upstairs hallway.
He raised a gun.
Everything happened at once.
Isabella turned.
Marco fired.
She fell.
Ezra fired from below.
Marco disappeared backward into the smoke.
Gabriel shoved Lucia toward Norah.
“Take her!”
Norah caught the child.
Isabella lay on the landing, blood spreading beneath her.
She looked at Gabriel.
“Don’t let him take her.”
“Who?”
But Isabella was looking past him.
Toward the hallway.
A man emerged through the smoke.
Old.
Thin.
Leaning on a cane.
Vittorio Rossi.
Gabriel stared at the father he had buried eleven years earlier.
Vittorio smiled.
“You see, son?”
May you like
He raised a gun with a trembling hand.
“Family always comes home.”
