Chapter 4 - The Debt You Don't Know About
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The armored black SUV sped through the rain-slicked streets of Chicago like a midnight ghost.
Emily sat pressed against the leather door, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Richard sat beside her, his coat open, revealing a dark crimson stain seeping through his fresh white bandage.
"You're bleeding through your sutures," Emily said, her clinical instincts momentarily overriding her terror.
"I've bled before," Richard replied without turning his head.
"Stop the car and let me out," she demanded, finding her voice.
"I am a trauma nurse, Mr. Callahan, not a mobster's accessory."
"You don't get to drag me into your gang war because some lunatic followed me to my car."
Richard finally turned to look at her, his dark eyes hollowed by exhaustion and ancient grief.
"Do you know who Julian Moretti is?"
The name sent a strange, cold shiver down Emily's spine, but she shook her head.
"He runs the family that controls half the narcotics on the South Side."
"What does that have to do with me?"
Richard leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, wincing as the movement pulled at his wound.
"Twelve years ago, your father was Detective David Carter."
Emily froze completely, the air leaving her lungs in a sharp gasp.
"Don't speak his name," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"My father died in disgrace."
"The police department buried his badge and stripped my mother of her pension because he was labeled a criminal."
"Your father wasn't a criminal, Emily."
Richard's voice carried a raw reverence that silenced her protests instantly.
"He was the only man in Chicago who refused to sell his soul."
"Then why did they find dirty money in his locker?" tears burned behind Emily's eyes.
"Because Salvatore Moretti planted it there after he murdered him."
Richard reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a worn, tarnished silver coin.
It was a Chicago Police department commendation medal, dented by the impact of a heavy-caliber round.
"Your father died in an alley behind Michigan Avenue."
"He didn't die doing dirty business."
"He threw himself between a hit squad and a reckless, stupid twenty-two-year-old kid who thought he owned the city."
Emily stared at the dented silver medal, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch the scratched metal.
"He saved you?" she whispered.
"He took three bullets meant for my spine."
"He told me to run, and I lived because he died."
Silence settled heavily between them, broken only by the rhythmic thumping of the SUV's tires over the wet pavement.
"For twelve years, I looked for you and your mother," Richard continued, his voice thick with unyielding resolve.
"I wanted to clear his name."
"I wanted to give you back the life that was stolen from you."
"And now Moretti knows who you are."
The driver cleared his throat from the front seat.
"Boss, we just checked Nurse Carter's apartment on Elm Street."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"Report."
"The front door was kicked in ten minutes ago," the driver said quietly.
"They trashed the place and left gasoline in the living room."
Emily looked out the window into the Chicago darkness, realizing with terrifying certainty that her entire world was gone.
Richard reached across the console, his large, scarred hand closing over her trembling fingers.
May you like
"You are safe now, Emily."
"I owe your father my life, and I will burn this entire city to ash before I let them touch his daughter."
