Chapter 9 - The Pursuit at Lincoln Park
"Ava! Come to Mommy, right now!" I screamed, sprinting across the grass as fast as my heels would allow, scooping my daughter up into my arms without breaking stride, clutching her tight against my chest as she shrieked in surprise.
Across the park, Marcus was running for his life, his expensive Italian leather shoes slipping on the damp autumn leaves as he scrambled toward the asphalt parking lot. But Marcus was a desk-bound corporate executive who spent his weekends playing golf in a cart; Dana was a conditioned, peak-performance professional fighter who trained daily for explosive speed and endurance.
The distance between them closed in seconds.
"Marcus, stop right there!" Dana roared, her voice echoing off the park pavilions like a cracking whip.
Marcus glanced frantically over his shoulder, his eyes wide with stark terror as Dana lunged forward, extending a long, muscular arm to grab the back of his dark hooded sweatshirt.
With a brutal, textbook takedown maneuver, Dana hooked her foot behind Marcus's ankle and yanked downward with devastating force. Marcus let out a sharp gasp as his feet flew out from under him, sending him crashing hard onto the asphalt parking lot with a sickening thud, his glasses shattering into a dozen pieces.
Dana was on top of him before he could even draw a breath, dropping a heavy knee squarely between his shoulder blades and pinning him flat against the pavement with ruthless efficiency.
"You violate a restraining order within two weeks of a federal judge signing it?" Dana growled, her face inches from his ear, her voice dropping into a terrifying, deadly register. "You really are stupid, Marcus. I should break your other arm right here on the public asphalt."
"Get off me! Let me go! I just wanted to talk to my daughter!" Marcus screamed, thrashing wildly beneath her grip, his cheek scraped raw against the rough concrete.
"You lost the right to talk to her the moment your girlfriend picked up a hockey stick," I shouted, jogging up to them with Ava still clutched safely in my arms, my heart hammering furiously against my ribs. I pulled out my cell phone with my free hand, dialing 911 for the second time in a month. "This is Clara Hayes. I need emergency police dispatch to Lincoln Park immediately. We have a domestic violator violating a plenary protection order!"
Within minutes, the wail of approaching sirens filled the crisp autumn air. Two squad cars careened into the parking lot, their tires screeching as they blocked all exits.
Officers poured out of the vehicles, weapons drawn, shouting commands. But when they saw Dana kneeling calmly on top of Marcus Hayes—who was whining patently into the concrete while begging for someone to call his lawyers—the leading officer simply lowered his weapon, sighed deeply, and shook his head.
May you like
"Mrs. Hayes," the officer muttered, walking over with a pair of steel handcuffs dangling from his fingers. "Is this the subject of the plenary order?"
"That's him, Officer," I said firmly, adjusting Ava in my arms and kissing the top of her soft brown hair. "Take him away. And make sure he stays this time."
