CHAPTER 3 – THE MEN IN THE BLACK SUV
CHAPTER 3 – THE MEN IN THE BLACK SUV
The black SUV remained motionless across the narrow street.
Its headlights stayed off.
Its engine idled quietly beneath the steady February rain.
Dominic never took his eyes off it.
Every instinct he'd developed over twenty years in organized crime told him the same thing.
They weren't lost.
They were waiting.
Dean had already slipped his hand beneath his jacket.
"Three men," he murmured. "Driver hasn't moved. Passenger just lit a cigarette."
Dominic spoke without looking away.
"Get my parents upstairs."
Sam slammed his trembling palm against the table.
"I'm not hiding in my own damn house."
"You are tonight."
"I fought in Korea before you were born."
"And now you have Parkinson's."
The words came out harsher than Dominic intended.
For a brief second, father and son simply stared at each other.
Sam's pride battled the truth his own body reminded him of every morning.
Finally, Tess stepped beside Sam.
"Come on."
"I don't need help."
"No," she said gently.
"But Connie does."
Sam looked toward his wife.
Connie's hands were shaking.
Without another argument, he slowly pushed himself to his feet.
Dominic watched Tess support his father with practiced patience.
Not pity.
Patience.
She never rushed him.
Never finished his movements for him.
She simply stayed beside him until he completed each step himself.
"You've done this before," Dominic said.
"My grandfather had Parkinson's."
"He lived with us for nine years."
Sam paused on the stairs.
"I like her grandfather already."
Dean peeked through the living-room curtain.
"They're getting out."
Dominic moved instantly.
"How many?"
"Four."
"Armed?"
"They're wearing winter coats."
"So yes."
Dominic drew his pistol.
The familiar weight steadied his heartbeat.
"Tess."
She turned.
"Take Ethan upstairs."
"I'm not leaving Connie."
"You will."
"No."
His eyes hardened.
"That's not a request."
She folded her arms.
"I'm aware."
For several seconds neither moved.
Dean looked from one to the other.
"This... isn't the time."
A heavy knock echoed through the front door.
Three slow knocks.
Not police.
Not neighbors.
Professionals.
Another knock.
Then a calm voice.
"Mr. Bruno?"
"We're looking for Samuel Bruno."
Dean whispered, "They know he's here."
Dominic motioned toward the hallway.
"Back door."
Dean disappeared to cover the rear entrance.
The knocking came again.
Harder.
"Mr. Bruno!"
"We know you're inside."
Upstairs, Ethan peeked through the banister.
"Mom?"
Tess looked up.
"Bedroom. Now."
"But—"
"Now."
He disappeared immediately.
Dominic noticed.
The boy obeyed because he trusted her.
Not because he feared her.
The front doorknob turned.
Locked.
Another shove.
Wood groaned.
"They're coming in."
Dominic positioned himself beside the doorway.
One man entered first.
Mid-thirties.
Leather gloves.
Suppressor already attached to his handgun.
Professional.
The second man followed.
Then the third.
The fourth remained outside.
Dominic waited.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Then he struck.
His elbow crashed into the first man's throat.
The pistol fired harmlessly into the ceiling.
Dean emerged from the kitchen like a freight train.
The second attacker slammed backward into the hallway wall.
Glass shattered.
The third man reached for his weapon—
A cast-iron frying pan smashed across his wrist.
Everyone froze.
Tess stood in the kitchen doorway.
Breathing hard.
Holding Connie's frying pan.
The attacker's pistol clattered onto the floor.
"You hit me..." the man gasped.
"You broke into the wrong house," Tess answered.
Dominic couldn't believe what he'd just seen.
She hadn't screamed.
She hadn't hidden.
She'd attacked.
The first gunman recovered quickly.
He lunged toward Tess.
Dominic fired once.
The bullet buried itself in the floor inches from the man's foot.
"Next one's higher."
The man stopped instantly.
Professional killers understood warnings.
Especially from Dominic Bruno.
Police sirens suddenly echoed several streets away.
The men exchanged nervous glances.
"This wasn't worth it," one muttered.
"Move!"
Within seconds they fled through the broken doorway and disappeared into the waiting SUV.
Tires screamed against wet pavement.
Then they were gone.
Silence returned.
Only rain tapped against the broken window.
Dean looked toward Dominic.
"You let them go."
"They'll lead us."
Dean understood immediately.
The SUV had already been tagged by one of Dominic's surveillance teams two blocks away.
Sometimes a retreat was more valuable than a capture.
Tess slowly lowered the frying pan.
Her hands finally began to shake.
The adrenaline was wearing off.
Dominic stepped closer.
"You should've gone upstairs."
"They were between me and my son."
"I noticed."
"So did they."
He looked at the dented frying pan.
"I've seen men freeze in gunfights."
She managed a tired smile.
"I wasn't thinking."
"No."
"You weren't."
For the first time in years...
Dominic felt something dangerously unfamiliar.
Respect.
That night, after the police finished asking questions they never truly wanted answered, Dominic refused to leave.
Dean arranged guards around the block.
Additional cameras were installed before midnight.
No one objected.
Not even Sam.
Because someone had tried to kill him.
And everyone in the house knew it.
Except Ethan.
The little boy simply asked whether the "bad men" would come back.
No one answered.
Because everyone already knew they would.
Across the city...
Inside an abandoned warehouse on the Delaware River...
The leader of the attackers listened silently as his men explained what had happened.
"You failed."
"He was already there."
"We weren't told Dominic Bruno visited."
The man sitting in the shadows smiled.
"Interesting."
He slid a photograph across the table.
It showed Tess leaving the hospital three nights earlier.
Another photo.
Ethan at school.
Another.
Connie pushing Sam's wheelchair.
"They've become... attached."
One gunman swallowed.
"What now?"
The man lit an expensive cigar.
"If Dominic Bruno has developed a weakness..."
May you like
He smiled.
"...we'll use it."
