Chapter 7 - Blood on the Marble
Dante stepped through the smoke of the foyer, his tactical vest scorched, but a broad grin on his face.
"Perimeter clear, Don Hayes," Dante reported. "The Castille leader was captured in the drive. The rest are dead or fleeing back to Philadelphia."
Declan lowered his weapon, his eyes immediately searching the shadows of the mezzanine. "Nora!"
Nora walked down the grand marble staircase, helping Mrs. Gable down the steps. Her hands were steady, her black sweater dusted with drywall powder, her pistol held safely at her side.
Declan rushed up the steps, taking Nora into his arms, pulling her flush against his chest, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips with frantic, passionate relief.
"You shot him," Declan gasped, a breathless, incredulous laugh escaping his throat. "You took out an armed mercenary by yourself."
"He was ruining the floor," Nora joked softly, her arms wrapping around his neck.
Mrs. Gable looked at the two of them—the most feared crime boss in New York holding a former maid as if she were the center of the universe—and a warm, knowing smile touched the housekeeper's face.
"I suppose," Mrs. Gable said, dusting off her apron, "I won't be needing to remind Miss Nora about the third-floor rules anymore."
May you like
Declan looked at Mrs. Gable, then looked back at Nora, his eyes glowing with endless love.
"No, Mrs. Gable," Declan declared, his voice echoing through the quiet, grand foyer. "Nora doesn't follow the rules of this house anymore. She makes them."
