Chapter 7 - The Desperate Move
My blood ran ice-cold in my veins. "My house? Why would he go to my house?!"
"He knows you're the key to my public recovery," Julian growled, pulling a hidden drawer open beneath his desk and retrieving a small black key fob. "Richard lost his position, his stock options, and his reputation today. He's desperate, angry, and he knows the police are already closing in on his financial fraud. He thinks if he can seize something valuable to me, he can force a ransom deal to clear his name and escape the country."
"Lily..." I gasped, pulling my daughter behind my back, my maternal instincts screaming in red alert.
"He won't touch her," Julian vowed, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "Arthur! Get the chopper prepped on the pad now!"
"Sir, air traffic control says a storm front is moving in from the bay," Arthur reported, rushing into the room. "Ground visibility is dropping fast!"
"I don't care if it's a hurricane!" Julian roared, striding past him toward the private elevator. "We are airborne in two minutes!"
We sprinted back up the stairs to the helipad. The sky above Chicago had turned an ominous dark gray, heavy rain beginning to pelt the concrete landing pad as the wind whipped through our hair.
The helicopter's rotors were already roaring, kicking up heavy mist as we scrambled inside the cabin.
"Hold on tightly!" Julian yelled over the deafening engine noise as the aircraft lifted violently into the stormy sky, banking sharply toward our suburban neighborhood.
Down below, the city was a blur of gray concrete, flashing streetlights, and rain-slicked highways. My hands shook so hard I could barely buckle Lily's safety harness.
"Mommy," Lily whispered, looking out the window at the storm clouds. "Are we going home?"
"Yes, baby," I said, kissing her forehead frantically. "We're going home. Everything is going to be okay."
Julian sat across from us, staring at a tracking screen on his satellite phone. A red dot was moving rapidly down the interstate toward our neighborhood.
"He has a ten-minute head start on the ground," Julian said, his jaw tight. "Representing a high-speed vehicle in heavy rain... but we have the air speed."
"Mr. Sterling," the pilot called out from the cockpit. "We're approaching the Oakridge sector, but wind gusts are hitting forty knots! I can't land on the grass green again—it's turned into a mud pit!"
Julian looked out the rain-streaked window. Down below, our quiet street was visible through the fog. The small neighborhood park across from my house was completely flooded, transformed into a swamp of brown mud and thrashing trees.
And down at the end of Maple Street, a speeding black SUV was sliding around the corner, its tires screeching against the wet pavement, heading directly toward my front porch!
"He's there!" I screamed, pointing down through the glass. "Richard is at the house!"
Julian unbuckled his harness, leaning into the cockpit. "Hover ten feet above the street! Directly in front of her driveway!"
"Sir! That's extremely dangerous in these winds!" the pilot warned.
May you like
"DO IT!" Julian commanded.
The helicopter descended rapidly through the blinding rain, its spotlight cutting through the dark storm, illuminating my house, the street, and the black SUV that had just slammed to a halt at our front gate.
