Chapter 3 - The Ambush at the Neon Diner
“DOWN!” Harrison roared.
He grabbed Claire by her apron, hauling her over the Formica counter just as the glass front of the diner exploded inward under a hail of suppressed automatic fire.
THWIP-THWIP-THWIP-THWIP!
Plaster, shattered coffee pots, and flying glass showered over them. Neon lights sparked violently before sputtering out, plunging the diner into near darkness, illuminated only by the headlights of the black van outside.
Claire gasped, her hands covering her head as glass rained down onto her apron. “Who are they?!”
“Sterling’s men,” Harrison growled, drawing a custom matte-black pistol from his shoulder holster.
He had spent ten years building an empire, but before that, Harrison Whitmore had served as an officer in naval intelligence. The instinct took over instantly.
He rolled across the floor, aimed through the shattered front window, and squeezed the trigger twice.
BANG! BANG!
The driver of the black van collapsed over the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare continuously through the rain.
“Vance!” Harrison yelled into his wrist communicator. “I’m under heavy fire at the Neon Diner! Bring the team now!”
“We’re two minutes out, sir!” Vance’s voice crackled through his earpiece.
One of the gunmen kicked open the broken front door, stepping into the ruined diner, his weapon raised.
Harrison didn't hesitate. He lunged forward from behind a booth, tackling the gunman around the waist, slamming him into the cigarette machine. The gun clattered across the floor. Harrison delivered two quick, devastating blows to the man’s jaw, knocking him unconscious instantly.
Claire grabbed a heavy iron skillet from the grill station, her knuckles white, her eyes wide with terror as a second gunman stepped through the side emergency exit.
The second gunman aimed his weapon directly at Harrison’s back.
“NO!” Claire screamed.
She swung the iron skillet with all her strength, striking the second gunman across the side of his tactical helmet with a loud CLANG!
The gunman stumbled sideways, disoriented. Harrison spun around, striking the man in the throat, sending him crashing onto the linoleum floor.
Silence fell over the diner, broken only by the blaring car horn outside and the patter of rain through the broken glass windows.
Harrison panted, his pistol steady as he surveyed the room. He looked at Claire, who was standing over the unconscious gunman, still holding the iron skillet, her breathing short and ragged.
“You’ve got good aim with a skillet,” Harrison said, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips despite the danger.
Claire dropped the skillet onto the floor with a loud metallic crash, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “They tried to kill us… they actually tried to kill us…”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Three black armored SUVs belonging to Whitmore Security pulled into the alleyway, blocking off the street. Vance and six heavily armed tactical operatives poured into the diner, securing the perimeter.
Vance ran over to Harrison. “Sir! Are you injured?”
“I’m fine,” Harrison said, wiping a streak of rain and oil from his forehead. He turned to Claire, stepping closer, his hands gently grasping her upper arms to steady her shaking frame.
“Claire,” Harrison said, his voice dropping into a gentle, unyielding promise. “You aren't safe here anymore. You’re coming with me.”
Claire looked up into his eyes, her heart pounding. “My father… he’s still in that facility, Harrison! If Sterling knows I talked to you, he’ll kill him!”
Harrison looked at Vance. “Vance, re-route Alpha Team to the Cook County Psychiatric Facility. Extract Arthur Bennett immediately. Bring him to the estate’s underground medical wing.”
“Understood, boss,” Vance nodded, turning to issue orders.
May you like
Harrison reached down, taking Claire’s cold, trembling hand into his broad, warm palm.
“I lost my wife to these monsters, Claire,” Harrison said, holding her gaze with fierce intensity. “I am not going to let them take you or your father too.”
