Chapter 3 - Blood on the Flagstones
Bennett’s fingers never touched the little girl.
Before the lieutenant’s hand could close around Elsie’s cotton dress, seventy pounds of muscular Belgian Malinois launched through the air. Rex tore across the distance with terrifying speed, his jaw snapping shut around Bennett’s right wrist with a sickening crunch.
Bennett screamed, dropping the silver pistol onto the wet flagstones. The momentum carried both the man and the dog onto the ground in a tangle of limbs and blood.
"Elsie!" Camille shrieked, sprinting across the courtyard. She threw her body over her daughter, scooping the toddler into her arms and pulling her back against the fountain's stone edge.
Julian moved with lethal precision. He didn't panic. He stepped forward, kicked the dropped pistol fifty feet away across the lawn, and drew his own custom sidearm from his shoulder holster.
"Rex, heel!" Julian commanded sharply.
The dog instantly released Bennett’s bloody wrist, stepping back three paces, his teeth stained red, his chest heaving as he maintained a low, murderous growl.
Bennett lay on his back, gasping for air, clutching his mangled arm. "Julian... please... don't..."
Julian pointed his weapon directly at Bennett’s forehead. His expression was completely blank, devoid of pity or anger. It was the face of a man who had survived twenty years in the underworld by cutting out infection the moment it appeared.
"You brought federal wires into my home," Julian said softly. "You put a target on my estate. And then you reached for a child."
"Julian! Wait!" Camille’s voice interrupted the quiet tension.
Julian didn't lower his gun, but his eyes shifted sideways toward the housekeeper. Camille was holding Elsie tightly against her shoulder. The toddler had her face buried in her mother’s neck, her small shoulders shaking, but she wasn't crying aloud. She was holding her stub of green crayon like a weapon.
"Don't do it here," Camille pleaded, her voice trembling but steady. "Not in front of her. Please, Mr. Ashworth."
Julian stared at Camille. Nine months she had worked for him, never speaking out of turn, never asking questions about the heavily armed men who visited at odd hours of the night. She had simply cleaned his floors, prepared his meals, and kept her daughter quiet in the background.
He looked down at Bennett, then back at Camille's pale, fierce face.
Julian snapped his fingers. Two armed guards—men who had been stationed at the perimeter gates—came running around the corner of the east wing with their weapons drawn.
"Take him to the basement," Julian ordered the guards coldly. "Secure his wounds. Find out every frequency that wire was transmitting to, and find out how many federal agents are sitting in vans outside my perimeter right now."
"Yes, Boss," the guards grunted, dragging the weeping, bleeding Bennett away across the grass.
Julian lowered his weapon and clicked the safety back on. He looked down at his shoes. The grey, soapy bathwater from Elsie’s plastic basin had spilled across the flagstones, mixing with a small puddle of Bennett's blood.
He looked at Camille and the child.
"Are either of you hurt?" Julian asked softly.
Camille shook her head, clutching Elsie tighter. "No. We're... we're fine, Mr. Ashworth."
Julian knelt down on the wet stone, bringing himself to eye level with the toddler. Rex immediately trotted over and sat down right beside Elsie, resting his wet snout against her knee.
"You did good, little one," Julian said, his stern face softening just a fraction. "Your dog saved us today."
Elsie peeked out from her mother’s neck, her dark eyes looking straight into the mafia boss's soul. "He isn't bad," she whispered. "He was just mad at the shiny button."
Julian paused. "The shiny button?"
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"On his jacket," Elsie murmured, pointing a tiny finger toward the discarded wool coat. "It was making a buzz noise. Like a bee. Rex hates bees."
Julian’s eyes widened slightly. The wire hadn't just been transmitting—it had been emitting a high-frequency electrical hum that human ears couldn't pick up, but a dog—and a small child standing right beside him—could.
