Chapter 6 - The Trap at Dock 9
The rain returned at midnight, sweeping across the dark, rusted shipping containers of Dock 9.
A single spotlight illuminated the center of the concrete pier, where Julian Vance stood flanked by eight heavily armed mercenaries in leather jackets.
Vance was a tall, heavy-set man with a thick beard and eyes like a vulture. He held a leather briefcase filled with cash, waiting impatiently.
A sleek black sedan pulled up to the spotlight, its high beams cutting through the heavy downpour.
The driver’s door opened, and I stepped out alone into the rain.
Vance’s eyes widened in immediate shock. He took a half-step back, his hand darting toward his waist holster.
“Moretti?” Vance growled, his voice rough. “Where the hell is Dante?”
“Dante is currently sitting in a federal holding cell,” I said smoothly, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps, my hands tucked inside my coat pockets. “He won't be joining us tonight, Julian.”
Vance sneered, signaling his men to raise their automatic rifles. Eight red laser beams painted my chest and shoulders.
“You came here alone, Moretti?” Vance laughed coldly. “That was a foolish mistake. I own this dock! I own the union! And once I kill you, I’ll take the rest of your city!”
May you like
“You don't own anything, Vance,” I said quietly. “Not even the ground you’re standing on.”
I raised my right hand and snapped my fingers once.
