Chapter 4 - The Runway at Teterboro
Z
The tarmac at Teterboro Airport was a desolate landscape of wet asphalt, blinking red navigation lights, and the roaring whine of twin jet engines. A sleek, black Gulfstream sat idling near Hangar 4, its boarding stairs lowered into the driving rain.
Two black sedans were parked at the base of the stairs, their headlights cutting through the heavy fog.
We didn't turn on our sirens. We didn't give them a warning.
My SUV smashed through the chain-link perimeter fence at sixty miles an hour, spraying sparks and debris across the concrete. Dominic turned the wheel hard, sliding the heavy vehicle sideways to block the path between the sedans and the idling jet. Three other black Suburbans filled with my men breached the gate right behind us, forming an impenetrable wall of steel around the aircraft.
Doors slammed open. Ten of my elite security force spilled out, weapons raised, taking tactical positions behind the vehicles.
"NOBODY MOVE!" Dominic screamed through a megaphone, his voice booming over the sound of the jet engines. "MORETTI SECURITY! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET ON THE GROUND!"
The men standing near the sedans were professionals—Sofia’s private European mercenaries. Instead of surrendering, they drew their weapons and opened fire.
The night exploded into absolute chaos.
Muzzle flashes illuminated the rain like flashes of lightning. Bullets pinged harmlessly off the reinforced armor of my SUV. I didn't wait for the firefight to resolve. I ducked low, pulled my snub-nosed revolver, and moved around the rear of the vehicle, my eyes fixed on the base of the plane's stairs.
Through the fog and smoke, I saw her.
Elena was crouched behind the rear bumper of the lead sedan, clutching a bundle wrapped in a thick wool blanket against her chest. She was weeping, her body shivering wildly as the sound of gunfire echoed around her. Standing over her was a tall man in a tailored Italian coat—Sofia’s head of security, a ruthless mercenary named Julian.
Julian grabbed Elena by the hair, dragging her toward the stairs. "Get up, you stupid bitch!" he yelled over the engine noise. "Get on the plane!"
"No!" Elena screamed, kicking at him, biting his wrist. "He belongs with his father! Leave us alone!"
Julian raised the butt of his heavy pistol, preparing to strike her across the face.
A cold rage, primal and unstoppable, flooded my veins. I stepped out from behind the SUV, took aim with my revolver, and fired twice.
The first heavy bullet struck Julian in the shoulder, spinning him around. The second took him in the thigh. He screamed, dropping his weapon and collapsing onto the wet pavement.
I didn't even look at him as I walked past. I sprinted the remaining twenty feet and dropped to my knees beside Elena.
"Marco!" she gasped, her face pale, her eyes wide with absolute terror.
"Are you hit?" I demanded, my hands hovering over her, checking her body for blood. "Are you hurt?"
"No... no, I’m okay," she sobbed, holding the bundle tighter.
I looked down. Inside the damp blanket, pair of dark, round eyes looked up at me. Leo—no, Mateo—was sucking on his thumb, entirely unfazed by the storm and the gunshots around him. When he saw my face, his small mouth curved into a tiny, toothless smile.
"Ba," he squeaked softly.
A sob tore from my throat—a sound I hadn't made in three long, painful years. I reached out with a trembling hand and touched his soft cheek. The warmth of his skin against my cold fingers was real. He wasn't a memory. He wasn't a ghost. He was my flesh and blood, breathing, alive, and sitting in the middle of a warzone.
"I’m sorry," Elena wept, bowing her head against my shoulder. "I’m so sorry, Marco. I wanted to tell you the moment I took the job... but I was so scared Sofia would kill him if she found out I betrayed her."
"Shh," I said gently, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other around my son, pulling them both against my chest. "You brought him back to me. You saved him."
The gunfire behind us began to die down. Dominic and my men had systematically disarmed and grounded the remaining mercenaries. Dominic walked over, his pistol still smoking in his hand, looking down at us. For the first time in ten years, I saw tears in the old man’s eyes.
"Is he...?" Dominic couldn't finish the sentence.
"It’s him, Dominic," I said, my voice thick with emotion as I stood up, cradling Mateo securely in my arms. "It’s my son."
Dominic let out a ragged breath and nodded toward the idling Gulfstream. "What about the plane? The pilot says the flight plan was directly to Naples. Sofia is waiting at her estate in Amalfi right now, expecting this plane to land in eight hours."
I looked down at Mateo, who was now resting his head against my shoulder holster, his tiny fingers curling around the lapel of my coat, just as he had done in my study earlier that day. Then I looked at Elena, who was standing beside me, shivering but resolute.
The grief that had consumed my heart for three years melted away, replaced by an absolute, icy clarity. My wife had stolen my child. She had forced me to mourn a living boy. She had let me suffer through three years of hell while she lived in luxury on the Italian coast.
She thought she had escaped. She thought she was safe.
"Dominic," I said, my voice cold enough to freeze the rain falling around us.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Keep the engines running."
Dominic blinked in surprise. "You want to fly to Italy?"
"No," I replied, looking toward the dark sky. "I want to send a message first. Tell the pilot to take off as scheduled. But tell him to leave the cabin empty."
May you like
"And Sofia?" Elena asked softly, her eyes filled with worry. "What happens when she realizes the plane is empty?"
"She won't realize it until it lands," I said, stepping toward my armored vehicle and holding the door open for Elena and my son. "And by the time she realizes her plan has failed... I will already be standing on her terrace."
