The Heritage Paper - By Derek Ciccone Page 0,90

his hand. Jamie’s eyes bulged out of his head, but it seemed to be more excitement than fear.

“We don’t have much time,” Eddie urged. “We need to get out of here.”

Maggie wasn’t going anywhere—not with him. She folded her arms and moved away.

“I messed up, okay? I told your mother I’d keep you safe, Mags, and I plan to keep my promise.”

She gauged him for a long moment, searching for the answer. She appeared to relent, and approached like she was going to give him a hug. But then she threw a punch to his most sensitive of areas. “Don’t ever do that again,” she said.

Eddie bent over in pain, but nodded in agreement.

It turned out that Jamie needed the bigger sales job. He’d grown accustomed to the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Only when his sister threatened his life did he agree to go. But the boy refused to leave his video game behind. He found a white laundry bag in the closet, put the game inside, and slung it over his shoulder.

Eddie led them into the hall. Footsteps were moving in their direction. A shot whistled by them and a vase crashed to the floor.

Eddie returned fire and they could hear the guards fall to the ground. They then followed him through a maze of corridors until they arrived at the grand staircase.

As they stood at the top of the staircase, reality clicked in. The footsteps grew louder behind them. It was the guards on the upstairs level. Below, two more guards aimed their automatic weapons. Word had spread quickly.

They were trapped.

But Maggie had an idea.

“Uncle Eddie, you shouldn’t be trying to protect us. We need to protect you.”

“What are you talking about?” he snapped, as the two upstairs guards moved into their vision. He was the protector.

“Jamie and I are royal blood, remember? They can’t shoot us. We are like …”

“A shield!” Jamie exclaimed.

Jamie handed Youkelstein the bag with the Xbox in it, and hopped on Eddie’s back. Maggie wrapped around his shoulders from the front like they were slow dancing, her legs dangling down.

Youkelstein trailed close behind, as they started down the stairs. “Move back—precious cargo coming through,” Eddie yelled at the downstairs guards.

They didn’t drop their weapons, so Eddie shot at them. He hit one in the arm and his gun fell to the ground. The other, the one Youkelstein had nicknamed the Golden Retriever, put his down voluntarily. Smart puppy.

The guard looked confused, and shouted at the upstairs guards, “Hold your fire! Secure the children without force.”

They reached the bottom of the staircase and stepped into the Great Room. Then eased toward the front entrance. The guards followed slowly. It was a game of chess.

Even if they made it out, the yard was littered with security. Sterling’s personal security, who claimed to be ex-Mossad, Israeli loyalists, but Youkelstein knew that was a fabrication—they were nothing but SS in training.

Maggie again took the role of leadership—she was a natural. “Once we make it outside they can’t do anything. The only thing that could hold Kingston back from winning at this point is a shootout in his front yard.”

“Can’t shoot kids and old people!” Jamie shouted out.

When they reached the front door, Eddie set them down. He began pushing the kids out the door. Shots rang out, and Eddie’s white dress shirt instantly turned red. He had been shot through the chest and slumped to the ground.

Maggie shouted at Youkelstein. “Get down!”

He followed her orders. She then ordered Jamie to stand in front of him. They couldn’t shoot Jamie.

Maggie knelt by Eddie. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine, Maggot, but you need to get out of this house,” he replied, his voice fading.

“Not without you.”

He mustered strength. “I’m ordering you, Maggot—get out of there now!”

“You can’t order me—I’m royal blood.”

“What you are is a royal pain in the ass. Besides, I’m your uncle and that outweighs everything.”

She was only twelve, but wise enough to realize that Eddie wasn’t going to make it out alive. But she still had a chance to get out … if she hurried. The guards were moving closer, their rhythmic footsteps clicking on the floor. Youkelstein could swear they were goose-stepping.

Maggie’s expression turned angry. A fire began simmering in her eyes. She noticed Eddie’s gun on the floor and picked it up.

She could do anything she wanted and the lowly guards couldn’t do anything back. It was intoxicating. No wonder so many kings and queens had abused their power over the

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