Chapter 4 - Bloodlines and Betrayal
Z
The black SUV stopped thirty feet away. The engine idled with a low, menacing rumble that echoed against the concrete pillars of the parking structure.
"Get behind the truck," Arthur ordered instantly, his voice dropping into the precise, commanding tone of a combat officer.
"Arthur, who is that?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs as the driver's side door opened.
A tall man stepped out into the freeze. He wore an expensive cashmere overcoat, but his posture was unmistakably military—upright, rigid, and calculating. As he stepped under the overhead light, Arthur’s body went rigid.
"Marcus," Arthur growled.
"Hello, Captain," the man said, his voice smooth, laced with a chill that rivaled the winter storm outside. "It’s been a long time since Kandahar."
"Marcus Reed," Arthur whispered to me, not taking his eyes off the man. "He was our platoon sergeant. The one who ordered the route change that led us right into the IED ambush ten years ago. After he took his medical discharge, he went to work as Head of Security for Apex Health Systems."
Marcus smiled, though the expression didn't reach his cold, dead eyes. "You always had a habit of poking your nose where it didn't belong, Arthur. You should have stayed in your quiet little apartment, taking your disability checks and living out your glory days."
"What did you do to Clara Sterling?" Arthur demanded, stepping out from behind the truck, putting himself directly between Marcus and me.
"Clara was a temporary employee who didn't know how to keep her mouth shut," Marcus said casually, taking a step forward. "She saw medical supplies being rerouted. She thought she was being a hero, just like her brother. But heroes end up six feet under, Arthur. You know that better than anyone."
"She’s a mother!" I shouted from behind Arthur, unable to contain my disgust. "Her baby is fighting for her life in my unit right now because of the poisons your people put into her system!"
Marcus looked at me, his eyes dead as stone. "Nurse Miller, I suggest you go back inside and tend to your patients. This doesn't concern you. Unless, of course, you'd like your nursing license revoked for violating HIPAA regulations by sharing patient files with a civilian."
"She isn't leaving," Arthur snapped. "And neither are you until you tell me where Clara is."
"Clara is being taken care of," Marcus replied, reaching inside his coat.
Arthur’s reaction was instantaneous. In a flash of terrifying speed, he closed the distance between them, grabbing Marcus’s wrist before the man could draw whatever was hidden inside his jacket. With a brutal twist learned from years of hand-to-hand combat, Arthur slammed Marcus against the side of the SUV, pinning his throat with a massive forearm.
"Where is she, Marcus?" Arthur roared, the tremor in his hands completely gone, replaced by lethal precision. "If she dies, I will tear Apex down brick by brick, and I’ll start with you!"
Marcus gasped for air, his face turning red under Arthur’s crushing grip, but he let out a strained laugh. "You... you think you're saving them, Arthur? You couldn't save Sam. You couldn't save your squad. And you can't save this baby. By tomorrow morning, the state will place that infant into an emergency foster facility controlled by an Apex subsidiary. She’ll vanish into the foster system, and you’ll never see her again."
"Not while I'm breathing," Arthur hissed.
"Then you won't be breathing long," Marcus choked out.
From inside the SUV, two more men clad in tactical gear stepped out, drawing concealed sidearms.
"Arthur, look out!" I screamed.
Arthur slammed Marcus hard into the nearest side-door panel, using him as a human shield as he reached down, snatched a heavy metal tire iron leaning against his truck bed, and hurled it with terrifying force at the driver-side windshield. The glass shattered violently, sending the two armed men ducking for cover.
"Get in the truck!" Arthur yelled at me, grabbing my coat collar and shoving me into the passenger seat of his Ford F-150. He leapt into the driver's seat, fired up the roaring V8 engine, slammed the gear shift into reverse, and smashed backward into the front bumper of the black SUV.
The impact slammed my head against the headrest. Rubber screeched against concrete as Arthur spun the wheel, shifted into drive, and tore out of the parking garage into the blinding whiteout of the Omaha snowstorm.
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"Where are we going?" I gasped, clutching the dashboard as the truck fishtailed down the slick streets. "We can't leave the baby!"
"We aren't leaving her," Arthur said, his jaw set like granite as he watched the rearview mirror for headlights. "We're going to get the one person who can tear this whole legal shield apart. We're going to break Clara Sterling out of wherever Marcus is holding her."
