Page 57 of Tattooed Heart

“One of your household staff has been compromised. A maid, I believe. Her role was to feign concern, claim the woman was bleeding, that the baby needed urgent, specialized care. Then she was supposed to recommend me as the specialist for high-risk pregnancies.”

Ivan steps closer to the door, listening intently. “They're getting closer.”

I make a snap decision. “You're coming with us,” I tell Reznick. “Anything happens to me and Ivan and we’ll ensure you don’t live to practice medicine again.”

The doctor nods quickly.

“Access the elevator,” I order. “Quietly.”

As Reznick moves toward the bookcase, the first gunshots echo from somewhere in the clinic. Not the controlled bursts of professional operators but chaotic return fire that suggests my men have regained their position.

The bookcase slides aside to reveal a small private elevator. We enter quickly, and I position myself to cover the exit while Ivan keeps his weapon trained on the doctor.

“This leads directly to my reserved space,” Reznick explains as we descend. “Level P2.”

The elevator hums quietly, the only sounds being the doctor's rapid breathing and the distant, muffled gunfire above us. My mind works furiously, calculating angles and assessing the likely situation we will face when the doors open.

“When we exit,” I instruct, “doctor in the middle. Move to the nearest cover. No heroics.”

The elevator slows, then stops. For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then the doors slide open to reveal the concrete expanse of the parking garage and four armed men waiting in strategic positions around a black Escalade.

Instantly, I react, shoving the doctor back and firing twice in the same motion. One of the gunmen drops immediately but return fire forces us back into the elevator as bullets ping off the metal doors.

“Another way out?” I demand, pressing the button to close the doors.

Reznick shakes his head, face ashen. “No, this is?—”

A bullet strikes the doctor in the chest, cutting off his words as he collapses. More shots follow, keeping us pinned in the cramped space while blood pools beneath the fallen doctor.

“Elevator won't hold as cover,” Ivan growls, returning fire through the narrowing gap of the doors.

I nod grimly. “When the doors close, hit the emergency stop. We make our stand here, control the choke point.”

The heavy doors finally slide shut, muting the gunfire. Ivan slams the emergency stop button, then positions himself to the side of the doors, his weapon ready.

“They knew exactly where we'd emerge,” he says.

“Russo's been planning this,” I agree. “Probably for weeks.”

Silence falls, broken only by the labored breathing of the doctor, who remains conscious despite his wound. I crouch beside him, checking the severity of the injury. The bullet entered below the collarbone, missing the heart but causing significant bleeding.

“You'll live,” I confirm, “if we get you help soon.”

Reznick coughs, blood speckling his lips. “Why would they shoot me? I did everything they asked.”

“Loose ends,” I reply simply. “You're a liability now.”

Fresh fury surges through me, but I control it, channeling it into clarity rather than blind rage. “How many men does Russo have?”

“Eight...maybe ten,” Ivan guesses.

I stand, meeting Ivan’s eyes.

“I'll create the diversion,” Ivan affirms. “You take the doctor and find an exit.”

“No,” I snap. “Russo wants me. You get the doctor out.”

“With respect,” Ivan replies, “your family needs you alive. I'm expendable.”

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