Chapter 11 - The Blood Price
Pierce stood motionless, the wind pulling at his crisp dress shirt. The laser sights remained steady on his chest, but his eyes never wavered from Hector Rossi’s hardened face.
""My wife is dead,"" Pierce said, his voice cutting through the engine hum. ""And my grandson is not a bargaining chip for common loan sharks.""
Hector smiled coldly, raising his weapon slightly. ""Then we open fire, Monsieur Sterling. Even with your private army, you don't survive this tarmac.""
""Nine million is pocket change for a Sterling,"" Pierce replied evenly. ""What isn't pocket change is the thirty percent stake my investment group holds in the port of Marseille—the very port through which your entire Mediterranean distribution network moves.""
Hector’s smile faded. His jaw tightened.
""You think you cornered me?"" Pierce continued, taking a step down the stairs. ""Two hours ago, while you were tracking Derek's bounced wire, my attorneys initiated a maritime audit of Docks 4 and 7. If I send one encrypted confirmation to the Ministry of Maritime Affairs, every shipping container bearing your shell company’s seal will be seized by customs before sunrise.""
Hector stared at Pierce, the tension stretching so tight the wind seemed to stop. The syndicate enforcers shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uneasy glances.
""You're bluffing,"" Hector growled.
""Try me,"" Pierce whispered. ""Shoot me here, and by tomorrow noon, your empire is bankrupt, your men are arrested, and your competitors will butcher you in the streets.""
May you like
Inside the jet cabin, Derek saw his chance. Creeping along the floorboards, he grabbed a discarded pistol dropped by a frightened airport guard and scrambled to his feet, lunging toward the rear lavatory where Claire was hiding.
""If I'm going down, we're all going down!"" Derek shrieked, kicking the bathroom door open.
