Chapter 4 - The Red Glow of Ambush
Julian retreated backward into the shadows of the kitchen prep pantry, his hand dropping instinctively toward the concealed drawer beneath the wine rack where he kept a registered Kimber .45. His fingers wrapped around the checkered grip, the weight of the steel offering a stark, grounding contrast to the surreal nightmare unraveling around him. He didn’t rack the slide; the sound would give away his position in the cavernous room.
Through the smoked glass divider of the pantry, he watched the elevator doors open completely. Two men stepped out onto the polished marble flooring of the foyer. They weren’t federal agents in navy windbreakers. They wore tactical dark civilian attire, suppressed semi-automatic carbines held at the low-ready position, their faces obscured by ballistic neoprene masks. They moved with the fluid, calculated precision of private military contractors.
""Clear,"" one whispered, his voice slightly distorted by an internal communications headset. ""Primary target is supposed to be in the living quarter. Check the master suite.""
""What about the drive?"" the second man asked, pausing near the kitchen threshold.
""She left it behind or took it with her. Boss said if the drive isn’t here, we take the man alive. If he resists, cripple him.""
Julian’s breath hitched in his chest. She left it behind. They were talking about Maya. Were they working for her, or hunting her? The conflicting realities tore at his mind. If Maya was the architect of this betrayal, why would these armed mercenaries be looking for her drive? And if she was innocent, then his accusation, his fury, his violent outburst in the kitchen hadn't just broken their relationship—it had driven her straight into an ambush.
The second operative stepped into the kitchen, the beam of his weapon-mounted flashlight slicing through the crimson emergency lighting. The white beam swept across the stove, the pristine white cabinets, and finally hit the dark granite countertop. The light flared brightly against the halo diamond ring still resting where Maya had thrown it.
The operative paused, angling his head to examine the sparkling gem. He lowered his rifle slightly and reached out a gloved hand toward the ring.
Julian didn't deliberate. He stepped out of the pantry doorway, raised the .45 with both hands, and squeezed the trigger twice into the contractor’s center mass.
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The suppressed cracks of the handgun were deafening inside the enclosed kitchen. The operative collapsed with a heavy clatter of tactical gear, violently overturning a barstool as he hit the floor. From the master hallway, the second contractor shouted an expletive and immediately opened fire, high-velocity rounds tearing through the kitchen drywall and shattering the designer glass cabinets into a rain of razor-sharp shards. Julian threw himself behind the thick granite island, concrete dust and pulverized porcelain raining down on his hair.
As he pressed his back against the stone, breathing in the smell of cordite and pulverized plaster, Julian looked down at the floor beside him. In the mercenary’s open tactical vest pocket, a secure radio was crackling with static. A familiar voice cut through the speaker: “Eagle Two, report. Did Lin secure the secondary target, or do we eliminate her at the pier?”
