Chapter 9 - Breaking the Chain on the Asphalt
From the gap in the curtains, I watched through the rain-streaked glass as Gideon confronted Victor under the sickly yellow glow of the motel parking lot light.
Victor was taller, broader, built like an old linebacker with a nose that had been broken twice in private security contracts overseas. He held a tablet in one hand, pointing toward the highway where a pair of unmarked Mercer SUVs had just blocked off both exits of the motel lot.
"You bypassed the detail, Victor," Gideon’s voice carried clearly through the thin aluminum door. "I gave you a direct order to secure the eastern perimeter."
"And you disobeyed every protocol in the manual to play domestic house in a rat-trap motel with a woman who has a federal BOLO resting on her license plate," Victor replied, his tone dangerously close to insubordinate. "The board is already asking questions about your whereabouts tonight, Gideon. If this gets out—if the press finds out the runaway mother is back—the foundation IPO tanks by Monday morning. I'm taking the boy."
"You touch him, and you won't live to see the sunrise," Gideon said softly. It was not a shout. It was the flat, dead tone of a man delivering a death sentence.
Victor sneered, stepping closer. "You're soft, boss. Too many years in glass towers. I called county dispatch ten minutes ago. Deputies will be here in—"
A dull, heavy thud echoed across the asphalt. Gideon didn't hesitate; he drove his fist straight into Victor’s jaw with a sickening crack of bone. Victor stumbled back against the hood of the unmarked SUV, spitting blood onto the wet pavement, his hand dropping toward the sidearm at his belt.
Before Victor could clear his holster, two of the junior guards stepped between them, shouting orders and holding their hands up to keep the peace.
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"Pack your bags, Victor," Gideon snarled, wiping a streak of blood from his knuckles as he stepped over the puddle. "You're fired. Effective immediately. If you're within five miles of my family when the sun comes up, I won't use the police."
I didn't wait for the rest. I grabbed the duffel bag, scooped a half-awake Noah into my arms, and pushed the back emergency exit open just as the distant wail of county sirens began to echo up the highway corridor.
