Page 36 of Hard Wired

Chapter Twelve

Dominic jumped up from the couch, buttoning his jeans. Maureen had just cried out downstairs. He ran for the closed door to the hall, then stopped to look back at Sylvie. Something was wrong with her computer, too. He didn’t understand what was happening.

“I need to go check on—”

“Yeah. Go.” Sylvie barely glanced at him. Her fingers flew over her keyboard.

He threw open the door and dashed down the back staircase. Maureen was in the kitchen. She saw him and pointed toward the front of the house.

“I saw a man outside in the front yard. He has a black ski mask on. I was going to call 911, but I can’t find my phone.”

“I will.” Dominic took out his device with one hand and wrapped the other around the woman’s shoulders. “Sylvie’s in the game room. Go upstairs. Both of you need to hide.”

It’s my uncle, he thought. That fucker.

Maureen screamed again. “Look!” Through the blinds of the kitchen window, a dark shape loomed into view.

“Get down.” Dominic dragged the woman to the tile floor just as a shot tore through the kitchen, thudding into a cabinet beside the Sub-Zero refrigerator. “Stay there. Don’t move.”

He crawled toward a cabinet door and threw it open. A Glock 19 was duct taped to the underside of the sink.

Dominic peeled the tape away and aimed the weapon at one window, then another. At the first sign of movement, he squeezed off a shot. A bullet hole appeared in the glass, webbed with cracks. The figure darted out of view.

“Upstairs,” he commanded to Maureen.

“Is the security system on? The doors are all locked, but if they try to break in—”

“I’ll check. Just go.”

Maureen hunched over and ran for the back staircase.

Dominic edged toward the patio doors. He couldn’t see anyone out on the deck. He confirmed that the doors were locked, then continued through the living room.

It wasn’t hard to imagine what was happening. Apparently, his Uncle Charles had denied his request for more time. Dominic should’ve expected this, yet the abrupt violence of this attack had blindsided him. He’d thought their family connection would be enough to buy him at least a few weeks of peace.

But it hadn’t, and now Maureen and Sylvie were in danger because of him. Guilt closed around his throat. Dominic couldn’t let anything happen to them.

Watching the front windows, he dialed 911. “Yes, my name is Dominic Crane. Someone’s trying to kill me in my home. No, I can’t hold. Just send help. Patrol car, SWAT team, anything.”

He gave them his address, hung up, and dialed the number for Bennett Security next. Not Max Bennett, but their emergency line, which Dominic had programmed into his contacts. He’d been worried that something like this could happen eventually.

But not with Sylvie here. Not in broad daylight.

He wished she’d brought along that burly bodyguard from her last visit. But Dominic had mocked her for that, hadn’t he? He’d been such an idiot, pretending that he was the greatest threat to Sylvie in this house.

If someone hurt her, it would be on him.

“Sir, I don’t see an alarm activation. Did you hit your panic button?”

“I don’t even know if my system is working.”

Beside the front door, the panel for his security system was blinking red. He didn’t know what that meant.

“Sylvie Trousseau is here with me. I’m guessing she’s your boss. So send some of those trained bodyguards with guns to my home address right fucking now.”

If nobody could get here in time—or if they didn’t care to bother—Dominic would turn himself over to save the others. But only after he put up a fight. The rest of the Syndicate might think he was weak, but he wasn’t going to just roll over.

Keeping his back against one wall, his gun ready, Dominic inched closer to the door. His insides felt like everything had spun around and switched places. Since he was a teenager, violence had been a part of his life. Yet he’d never gotten used to it.

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