Chapter 6 - Blood on the Lake
The first bullet clipped Marcus’s left shoulder, the kinetic impact spinning him hard against the wooden piling of the dock. The second round gouged a deep splintered trench into the wet timber inches from his boots. Marcus hit the dock floor, rolling instinctively into the shadow of the boathouse’s exterior fuel tank.
Pain flared white-hot through Marcus’s shoulder, warm blood soaking rapidly through his suit jacket. Clenching his teeth to stifle a groan, he brought his firearm up with his right hand, tracking the sound of footfalls on the wet boards.
Pop. Pop.
Two more suppressed rounds slammed into the metal fuel tank with hollow thuds.
“You’re out of your depth, Marcus!” Captain Miller’s voice called out over the idling engines of the boat. “Eleanor’s family controls half the judicial district. You think you’re saving a billionaire's family? You’re just committing suicide for people who wouldn’t cross the street to spit on you!”
Inside the boathouse, the high-pitched hum of the speedboat’s throttle spiked. Eleanor was behind the wheel.
Marcus breathed slowly, counting the seconds between Miller’s footsteps. Three paces. Two paces.
Marcus swung out from behind the tank, firing three rapid shots through the mist. The muzzle flashes lit up the darkness. One bullet shattered Miller’s tactical rifle grip; the second tore through Miller’s thigh. The corrupt captain collapsed onto the slick dock with a guttural roar of agony, his rifle sliding into the black, churning lake water.
Marcus didn’t waste a second. He lunged forward, kicking Miller’s backup sidearm into the water, then pushed past him toward the boathouse door.
Inside, Eleanor slammed the throttle forward. The speedboat leaped out of the slip with an explosive roar, throwing up a massive plume of white spray. The boat's stern clipped the wooden pilings, sending splintered boards raining down into the lake.
Marcus raised his weapon, aiming for the engine cowling, but Eleanor had already killed the navigation lights. The dark hull vanished into the pitch-black void of the open lake, swallowed entirely by the storm.
Behind him on the dock, Miller lay clutching his bleeding leg, groaning into the rain. Marcus walked over, placing the cold barrel of his service pistol directly against Miller’s temple.
“Where is she going, Miller?” Marcus whispered, his voice deadly calm. “There’s only one road out of the north shore, and the state police have it blocked.”
Miller coughed, a mixture of rainwater and blood dripping from his chin. He smirked through the pain. “She’s not taking a road, you idiot. She’s meeting the private chopper at the old Oakhaven airstrip. In twenty minutes, she’ll be in international airspace. And Clara’s remaining medical files—the ones proving she’s the legal mother of the Sterling fortune—are on that helicopter.”
Marcus’s radio crackled to life on his vest. It was Agent Chen from Internal Affairs.
“Marcus, we’ve secured the main house. Walter Cross is in custody. But we have a serious problem down here.”
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“What problem, Chen?” Marcus panted, pressing his hand against his bleeding shoulder.
“Clara collapsed in the safe room. She wasn't just hiding, Marcus. When Eleanor’s men raided her safe house earlier tonight, they forced her to ingest something. Her pulse is bottoming out. We need the antidote, and the only person who knows what compound they used is Eleanor.”
