Chapter 6 - The Strike in the Storm
The rain returned to New York with a vengeance, sweeping across the harbor in blinding sheets of white noise.
Adrian stood on the roof of an abandoned sugar refinery overlooking Red Hook Pier. Beside him, Lucas checked the magazine of his sniper rifle, his teeth clenched tightly.
“Half our captains flipped to Dominic’s side,” Lucas reported over the sound of thunder. “They think you’ve lost your mind because of the diner. Dominic told them you were giving away syndicate funds to a waitress.”
“Let them think what they want,” Adrian said, scanning the dock through a pair of night-vision binoculars.
Below them, five armored SUVs were parked around Warehouse 14. Dominic’s men were busy loading wooden crates filled with untraceable automatic weapons onto a cargo freighter bound for South America.
Standing on the loading dock, wearing a thick leather trench coat, was Dominic. Beside him stood Agent Miller—a dirty FBI handler whom Dominic had been paying off for years.
“If we attack head-on, we’re outnumbered five to one,” Lucas noted.
“We’re not attacking head-on,” Adrian replied coolly. “We’re cutting off the head.”
Suddenly, Adrian’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. It was an incoming video call from an unknown number.
Answering it, Adrian’s blood ran cold.
The screen lit up to show the inside of Rose’s Diner. The front window was shattered. The tables were overturned. And sitting tied to chairs in the center of the room were Sophia and Emma, guarded by two armed men in tactical gear.
Dominic’s face appeared on the screen, grinning sadistically.
“Did you really think I wouldn't leave a backup plan, Adrian?” Dominic sneered into the camera. “You thought you were so slick sending Frankie to test the waters. I knew you’d protect that little girl.”
Adrian’s jaw locked, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the phone. “Dominic. If you lay a single finger on them—”
“Shut up!” Dominic barked. “Here’s how this works, Boss. You walk down to Warehouse 14 alone. You sign over the shipping manifests and the master codes to the offshore accounts in Switzerland. You do that, and maybe I let the mother and kid live. You have fifteen minutes.”
The line went dead.
Lucas looked at Adrian, panic evident in his eyes. “Boss, it’s a trap! The second you sign those codes, he’ll kill you, the woman, and the kid!”
Adrian closed his eyes for a single second. In his mind, he saw six-year-old Emma holding out that soaked envelope in the pouring rain. He saw her proud, honest smile. He saw Sophia pushing away two hundred thousand dollars because she believed in doing what was right.
When Adrian opened his eyes, the mob boss was gone. What remained was a predator with nothing left to lose.
“Lucas,” Adrian commanded softly. “Set the charges on the refinery’s gas line.”
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“Boss?”
“If Dominic wants a war,” Adrian said, pulling two custom matte-black pistols from his shoulder holsters, “I’m going to give him hell.”
