Chapter 5 - The Ambush on Lake Shore Drive
The procession of black, armored vehicles rolled out of the subterranean garage of Northwestern Memorial Hospital at precisely 4:15 PM.
The sky over Lake Michigan was a bruised, heavy slate gray, a cold November drizzle sweeping across the asphalt.
I sat in the middle row of the primary Suburban, sandwiched between high-density foam padding and heavy bulletproof glass. I had Leo pressed securely against my bare skin under a specially modified wrap that allowed me to keep one hand on his chest and another holding a portable oxygen tube near his tiny nose.
Daniel sat directly beside me, a dark tactical pistol resting silently on his knee. Matteo was in the front passenger seat, monitoring two encrypted radio channels.
"Decoy team cleared the expressway," Matteo reported, his eyes scanning the side mirrors. "They drew two scout vehicles toward I-90. We have a clear run down Lake Shore Drive."
"Keep your eyes open," Daniel growled, staring out the rain-streaked window. "Antonio isn't stupid. He knows I wouldn't take the highway with the baby."
The SUV surged forward, the heavy V8 engine humming as we swept onto the winding stretch of Lake Shore Drive. The city skyline loomed to our left, dark and imposing against the gray lake.
Leo was remarkably calm, lulled by the deep, rhythmic vibration of the heavy vehicle's engine and the warmth of my body. His vitals on the portable battery monitor strapped to my hip were stable—heart rate 135, oxygen 97.
"He likes the ride," I murmured softly, trying to break the suffocating tension in the cab.
Daniel glanced over at me, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second as he looked at his son. "His mother used to love driving along the lake at night. When she was three months pregnant, she couldn't sleep unless I drove her up and down the coast for hours."
It was the first time he had mentioned his late wife without a mask of cold authority.
"What was her name?" I asked quietly.
"Elena," Daniel said, his gaze drifting back to the window. "She was the daughter of Don Bernardo from Detroit. An arranged match... but she became my anchor. When the truck crossed the center line three weeks ago..." He stopped, his jaw tightening so hard the muscles jumped under his skin. "They told me she died instantly. They had to cut Leo out of her on the asphalt."
Horror struck my heart. I looked down at the tiny baby against my chest, realizing for the first time the horrific, violent trauma he had survived before he even drew his first breath.
"He's a fighter," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. "Just like his father."
Before Daniel could answer, Matteo yelled from the front seat.
"BOSS! BRAKE!"
A massive commercial dump truck pulled out from an intersection access road, slamming its heavy steel bumper directly into the lead escort SUV ahead of us.
The sound of shattering metal and exploding glass echoed like a bomb.
Our driver slammed on the brakes, the heavy armored Suburban skidding wildly across the wet asphalt, coming to a halt inches from the smoking wreckage.
Instantly, automatic gunfire erupted from the treeline bordering the park.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Heavy-caliber rounds slammed into the bulletproof glass of our side windows, spider-webbing the reinforced layers but failing to penetrate.
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Leo woke instantly, letting out a sharp, high-pitched scream of terror.
"DOWN!" Daniel roared, throwing his massive frame over both me and the baby, using his own body as a human shield against the window as more rounds hammered the steel bodywork.
