Chapter 4
The deep, low timbre of Rafferty's voice was quiet, but it carried an undeniable, terrifying finality that echoed across the silent polo club. He did not look at the bodyguards who were currently pulling foam cushions off a gasping Gwendolyn. He looked directly across the crowded terrace, scanning the faces of the fifty capos and donors who had stood by and watched the coup attempt.
"Who else here approved this?" Rafferty asked quietly.
The question hung in the bright, luminous air like an executioner's blade. The tone was menacing, dripping with the absolute promise of blood.
Several high-ranking capos seated at the front tables exchanged rapid, uneasy glances. They had known Gwendolyn was ambitious, but they hadn't anticipated she would attempt to physically depose the boss in broad daylight. More importantly, they hadn't anticipated the boss surviving the assault with his authority intact, saved by a maid wielding a polo mallet.
"No one, Boss," Marcus said loudly, stepping forward from the crowd. He drew his weapon, pointing it directly down into the practice lane at Gwendolyn’s bodyguards. "She acted alone."
The two bodyguards froze. They looked up at the terrace, realizing instantly that the balance of power had shifted irreparably. They had backed a usurper whose plot had just spectacularly imploded, and they were now standing in a sand pit surrounded by men loyal to the rightful, furious boss of the syndicate.
"Put your hands on your heads and step away from her," Marcus commanded.
The guards didn't hesitate. They abandoned Gwendolyn in the sand, raising their hands in a universal gesture of surrender.
Maura remained close beside Rafferty, keeping her arm tightly around his waist to support his weight. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she didn't retreat to the shadows. She watched the woman who had tormented the family completely unravel in a matter of seconds.
Gwendolyn pushed a fabric banner off her face, coughing violently. She looked up at Rafferty, her elegant polo-club outfit ruined by sand and dirt.
"You think this is over, Rafferty?" Gwendolyn wheezed, her survival instinct overriding her pride. "The families know you're weak! They know you're losing your grip!"
"Do you believe a public display of cowardice proves your strength, Gwendolyn?" Rafferty inquired smoothly, his voice dropping into a dangerous register.
"I am the rightful heir!" Gwendolyn screamed, attempting to stand, but her knees buckled in the deep sand. "I have the connections! I have the politicians!"
"You have absolutely nothing," Rafferty stated. He turned his cold, unwavering gaze to Marcus. "Take her to the holding cells at the estate. We will discuss her future tonight."
"Yes, Boss," Marcus nodded, gesturing for two of his men to descend into the practice lane.
Rafferty turned his attention back to the woman supporting him. The housemaid’s expressive eyes were wide with residual fear, her lips still trembling slightly.
"Are you unharmed, Maura?" Rafferty asked softly, his deep voice meant only for her ears.
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"I'm fine, sir," Maura breathed, looking up into his handsome face. "We need to get a doctor for your ankle."
"The ankle can wait," Rafferty murmured, his tattooed hand coming to rest gently over hers at his waist. "Will you help me to the car?"
