Chapter 4 - The Price of Five Dollars
The sudden explosion of noise shattered the quiet warehouse.
Before Vance or Mason’s guards could even raise their weapons, four high-powered flashbang grenades arced through the air, detonating simultaneously across the concrete floor in a blinding vortex of white heat and thunder!
Screams of disorientation echoed through the space as Vance’s hired guards stumbled backward, clutching their eyes and ears.
Out of the white smoke stepped Dominic Vale.
He moved with absolute, terrifying precision. In his right hand, he held a dark steel suppressed pistol. Without slowing his stride, he raised his arm and fired three rapid shots.
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
The three armed guards near the loading bay collapsed instantly onto the wet concrete, their weapons clattering uselessly away.
Mason Keller gasped in pure horror, dropping his crowbar, reaching wildly for his shotgun resting against the metal barrel.
Dominic didn't give him the chance. He closed the distance in two long strides, grabbing Mason’s wrist, twisting it upward until the bone snapped through the jacket sleeve with a horrific crunch! Mason let out a guttural howl of pain, but Dominic caught him by the throat, driving him backward and slamming his head onto the steel barrel!
Dominic pinned the towering enforcer against the metal with one hand, pressing the warm barrel of his pistol directly against Mason’s golden teeth.
“You’re Mason,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying growl that chilled the air in the warehouse.
Mason, clutching his shattered wrist, could only nod frantically, his eyes wild with mortal terror.
“A seven-year-old girl paid me five dollars to save her mother,” Dominic whispered against his ear. “And she asked me to make sure the man with the gold teeth never hurt anyone again.”
Thwip.
Dominic pulled the trigger. Mason’s body went limp, sliding off the barrel onto the concrete floor like a sack of stones.
In the corner of the warehouse, Raymond Vance was scrambling backward, his expensive leather shoes slipping on the wet concrete as he tried to reach his sedan. He dropped his briefcase, his face pale as a sheet, his body shaking with unadulterated panic.
“Vale!” Vance screamed, raising his trembling hands in surrender. “Vale, stop! You don't know what you’re doing! I’m the Assistant District Attorney! You kill me, the entire federal government will come down on your organization!”
Dominic slowly turned around. He didn't look angry; he looked entirely bored by the prosecutor’s threats.
He walked over to Clara Morales, pulled a silver pocket knife from his vest, and sliced through the heavy ropes binding her wrists and ankles in two quick strokes.
Clara collapsed forward, catching herself on her hands, gasping for air, weeping hysterically as she stared at the dark, imposing man standing over her.
“Who... who are you?” Clara sobbed, clutching her bruised wrists. “Did Raymond send you to kill me too?”
Dominic folded his pocket knife and put it away. He looked down at the bruised, exhausted woman with quiet respect.
“My name is Dominic Vale,” he said softly. “And I was hired by your daughter.”
Clara’s head snapped up, her tear-filled blue eyes wide with shock. “Sophie? Sophie is alive? Where is she? Is she okay?”
“She is safe at my home,” Dominic reassured her, offering his gloved hand to help her stand. “She made me a peanut butter sandwich before I left. She’s a very tough young lady.”
Clara took his hand, tears pouring down her face as she let out a long, shuddering sob of pure, unadulterated relief.
Dominic then turned his attention back to Raymond Vance, who was cowering against the tire of his luxury sedan.
Dominic walked over, picked up the dropped briefcase, opened it, and verified the financial ledger inside. He closed it with a soft snap.
“This ledger goes to the U.S. Attorney’s office in Washington at eight o'clock tomorrow morning,” Dominic told Vance coldly. “Along with a full confession from Caleb Keller, whom my men currently have in the trunk of my SUV.”
Vance gasped, looking up with desperate, bloodshot eyes. “Dominic... please! We can make a deal! I’ll give you total immunity in the city! I’ll give you the port distribution rights! Millions of dollars, Vale! Whatever you want!”
Dominic looked down at the corrupt politician with absolute disdain.
He reached into his inner breast pocket, pulled out the neatly folded five-dollar bill, and held it up between two fingers.
“I’ve already been paid, Vance,” Dominic said quietly. “And my employer’s terms don't include mercy for men like you.”
Dominic nodded to Marcus and Tony, who stepped forward out of the shadows, grabbing Vance by his arms and hauling him screaming toward the back of the warehouse.
“Take him to the harbor office,” Dominic ordered. “Tie him to his desk, leave the ledger on his lap, and call the federal marshals. Let the world see what kind of monster he really is.”
“Right away, Boss!”
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Dominic turned back to Clara, pulling his warm wool coat from his shoulders and gently draping it over her shivering frame.
“Come, Mrs. Morales,” Dominic said softly, guiding her toward the warmth of his armored sedan. “Your daughter is waiting for you.”
