Chapter 9 - The Trap
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The small-town pharmacy was empty, lit by harsh fluorescent lights. Clara kept her head down, avoiding the security cameras as she hurriedly grabbed infant fever reducer, electrolyte pedialyte, and a digital thermometer.
She approached the counter, counting out her last few crumpled dollars.
The cashier, a teenager chewing gum, barely looked at her. "That'll be twenty-four fifty."
As Clara handed over the money, she heard the chime of the pharmacy door opening. Heavy, synchronized footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor.
Clara froze. She didn't turn around, but she could see their reflection in the anti-theft mirror above the aisle. Three men in dark suits. And none of them were Damian Costello.
"Miss Hayes," a familiar, slick voice said behind her.
Clara slowly turned. It was Briggs, Victoria’s head of security. He had a suppressed pistol held discreetly by his thigh.
"Mrs. Costello has been very worried about you," Briggs smiled, though his eyes were dead. "She sent us to bring you home."
Clara backed against the counter, her arms wrapping protectively around the bundled twins on her chest. "She didn't send you to bring us home. She sent you to finish the job."
"Smart girl," Briggs chuckled. "Hand over the brats, Clara. You can walk away. Take a bus to Mexico. Nobody has to know."
"No," Clara whispered, her grip tightening on the heavy iron poker hidden in her coat.
Briggs sighed, raising the gun. "Shame."
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Before he could pull the trigger, the pharmacy's front window shattered inward in a shower of glass. A black tactical van slammed through the storefront, throwing Briggs and his men to the floor.
Through the dust and chaos, a towering figure stepped out of the driver's seat. Damian Costello cocked a shotgun, his eyes locking onto Clara.
