Chapter 28 - The Fire This Time
The shotgun barrel was pointed straight at my chest.
Luca didn't hesitate. He threw himself between Salvatore and the boat, taking the point-blank blast across his shoulder. The impact sent Luca flying backward onto the wet boards of the pier, blood instantly staining the wood.
"LUCA!" Clara and I screamed in unison.
Salvatore pumped another shell into the chamber, stepping forward, his eyes burning with absolute madness. "You chose this, son! You chose this worthless dog and this street girl over your own blood!"
He aimed the shotgun directly at Luca’s head.
From behind the fuel tanks on the opposite side of the slip, a low, guttural snarl vibrated the air.
Barnaby had not run. The old hound had circled around through the shadows, waiting for the moment his master was in mortal danger.
With the last reserve of strength in his ancient, loyal body, Barnaby lunged from the darkness straight at Salvatore’s throat.
"Get off me, you beast!" Salvatore shrieked as Barnaby collided with him, the force knocking the shotgun from his hands. The weapon fell into the dark water of the slip with a splash.
Salvatore rolled across the pier, wrestling with the massive dog, his fingers digging into Barnaby’s throat as the hound sank his teeth deep into the old man’s scarred shoulder. Salvatore drew a combat knife from his belt with his free hand, raising the gleaming blade high.
"Barnaby, NO!" I screamed, leaping from the boat onto the dock.
I grabbed an iron mooring cleat lying on the tool bench and swung it with all the fury and terror in my heart, striking Salvatore across the wrist. The knife flew out of his hand, skittering across the floorboards.
Barnaby clamped down harder, dragging Salvatore toward the edge of the fuel station. In the struggle, an overhead fuel line ruptured, spraying high-octane gasoline across the deck and over the old man’s clothes.
"Elena! Clara!" Luca gasped, dragging his bleeding body upright against the boat’s railing. "The flare! Hit the flare!"
Salvatore managed to kick Barnaby off, scrambling toward his fallen knife, his face twisted in psychotic fury. "I built this empire! I am the only God Chicago will ever know!"
I reached into the emergency locker on the boat’s console, grabbed the red marine flare gun, and pointed it squarely at the pool of gasoline beneath Salvatore’s boots.
"Your empire ends tonight," I said.
I pulled the trigger.
A brilliant red phosphor flare ignited the gasoline in a roaring wall of white-hot fire. The flames erupted instantly, consuming the fuel lines, lighting up the entire boathouse in a blazing inferno of vengeance. Salvatore screamed as the fire caught his clothes, stumbling backward toward the roaring wall of flames.
"Barnaby, jump!" I screamed, grabbing Luca’s good arm and hauling him onto the boat.
Barnaby leaped across the burning gap, his paws hitting the deck as Clara slammed the throttle forward.
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The boat surged through the boathouse water gates, shattering the wooden barrier and shooting out into the open, stormy expanse of Lake Michigan just as the entire boathouse exploded behind us in a massive ball of fire and smoke.
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