Chapter 7 - Pier 42
The rain was an impenetrable sheet of silver falling against the windshield as the SUV tore through the industrial district of the harbor. Abandoned warehouses loomed like rusted leviathans against the stormy sky. Gabriel drove with reckless precision, drifting around slick corners, his phone synced to the dashboard as he barked orders to his private security team to converge on the coordinates.
""All harbor exits are monitored, but Marcus has coast guard contacts on payroll,"" Gabriel said, his voice grim. ""If that cargo boat leaves international waters, we will never see Mia again.""
""Pier 42 has a private slipway behind the cold storage facility,"" Clara said, leaning forward to wipe the condensation from the side window. ""Look there. The floodlights are on.""
Through the murky downpour, Gabriel spotted the glare of halogen lights piercing the fog. Three black sedans were parked near the water’s edge, surrounding a 60-foot luxury yacht whose engines were already rumbling, spitting white exhaust into the churning black tide. Several men in yellow slickers and heavy coats were loading aluminum containers onto the gangway.
Gabriel killed the SUV's headlights and coasted to a halt behind a mountain of rusted shipping containers, two hundred yards away. He reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a small tactical earpiece, and handed it to Clara.
""Put this in. You stay in the vehicle.""
""Gabriel, no—""
""This isn't a debate, Clara,"" he cut her off, his voice absolute and commanding. ""I lost my brother and Elena three years ago because I wasn't fast enough, smart enough, or violent enough to stop Marcus. I will not lose that little girl, and I will not let you become collateral damage.""
""I am already part of this,"" she countered fiercely, grabbing his arm before he could open the door. ""Look at the gangway. That's Marcus himself.""
Gabriel froze, following her gaze. Emerging from the rear of the center sedan was an older man with silver hair, leaning on a cane, holding an umbrella. Walking just behind him was a burly bodyguard carrying a small bundle wrapped in a pink raincoat.
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A flash of lightning illuminated the girl's face. Mia. She was conscious, but her head drooped against the guard's shoulder, clearly sedated.
A murderous sound tore from Gabriel’s throat. Without another word, he kicked his door open and stepped out into the pouring rain, raising his weapon with cold, executioner-like intent.
