Chapter 7 - Ambush at the Docks
The Hudson River was pitch-black, shrouded in a dense, swirling fog as the midnight tide rolled in. Warehouse 14 stood at the end of the industrial pier, a rusted cavern of corrugated steel, towering cargo crates, and squealing gulls.
Deari’s black SUV pulled onto the concrete apron, followed by a chase car carrying four of his trusted bodyguards. Luigi sat in the front passenger seat of Deari’s vehicle, his face pale and clammy under the sickly yellow glare of the dockyard floodlights. Caitlyn sat in the back with Deari, clutching the leather portfolio containing the harbor transfer documents.
""Captains are sweeping the perimeter,"" Luigi muttered, checking his watch. ""Everything looks clear, boss.""
Deari didn't answer. His eyes scanned the shadows between the shipping containers, his instincts screaming that something was fundamentally wrong. ""Keep the engines running,"" Deari commanded the driver.
They stepped out into the damp, freezing fog. Caitlyn pulled her woolen coat tightly around her shoulders, keeping half a step behind Deari’s towering frame. They entered the cavernous warehouse through a heavy sliding door. Inside, a single wooden folding table sat beneath a harsh hanging bulb.
Waiting beside the table was not the union representative.
Julian Moretti stood there, flanked by six heavily armed mercenaries dressed in tactical gear, submachine guns resting against their tactical vests.
Deari stopped dead in his tracks, his hand dropping toward his concealed holster. ""Julian. Where is the union boss?""
Julian smiled—a hideous, victorious grin that revealed gold-capped teeth. ""He took an early retirement, Hamilton. Courtesy of a suitcase full of unmarked cash.""
Behind Deari, the warehouse doors suddenly slammed shut with a deafening metal bang. Deari spun around, but before his bodyguards could raise their weapons, Luigi stepped backward toward the door, pulling his suppressed semi-automatic pistol and aiming it directly at Deari’s chest.
""Don't move, boss,"" Luigi barked, his voice cracking with nervous adrenaline.
Outside, a burst of muffled automatic gunfire echoed through the steel walls. Deari’s four exterior guards had just been executed in the fog.
Caitlyn gasped, clutching the portfolio against her chest as the trap snapped shut around them. ""Luigi... what are you doing?""
""Shut up, Elmore!"" Luigi snarled, sweat beading on his forehead. ""You brought this on him! Ever since he started looking at you, he forgot what made this family feared. He threw half a million dollars at your worthless brother while the rest of us took the risks!""
Deari didn't look at Luigi’s gun. His posture didn't change. He slowly turned his gaze toward his treacherous lieutenant, his expression colder than the Hudson River.
""I made you, Luigi,"" Deari said, his voice flat, emotionless, and terrifyingly calm. ""I pulled you out of the gutter in Brooklyn and gave you a seat at my table. And you sell me out to a boy who can't even balance his family's books?""
Julian stepped forward, cocking his shotgun with a sharp metal clatter. ""Save the eulogy, Deari. You're done. Your docks belong to the Morettis now. And as for your little secretary..."" Julian’s eyes flicked to Caitlyn with sick amusement. ""Once I finish putting a bullet in your skull, she’s going to learn what happens to women who insult me in public.""
In that split second, Deari moved.
He didn't draw his weapon toward Julian. Instead, he lunged sideways, slamming his entire body weight into Caitlyn, knocking her violently behind a stack of thick steel shipping crates just as the warehouse erupted into deafening gunfire.
Muzzle flashes ripped through the darkness. Bullets chewed into the corrugated metal walls and sparked off the steel containers. Deari rolled across the concrete floor, drawing his twin Glock 19s in a blur of deadly motion.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Two of Julian’s mercenaries collapsed instantly, blood blooming across their chests before they even hit the ground. Deari scrambled behind the crate next to Caitlyn, breathing hard, his eyes scanning the cavernous room through the rising haze of cordite smoke.
""Stay down!"" Deari ordered, slamming a fresh magazine into his weapon.
""Deari, you're bleeding!"" Caitlyn cried out in terror.
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A ricocheting bullet had grazed Deari’s upper arm, slicing through his black jacket and soaking his sleeve in crimson. But the mafia boss didn't even flinch. He looked down at her pale, terrified face, reached out with his bloody hand, and gently wiped a speck of dust from her cheek.
""I told you,"" Deari murmured, his voice deadly steady amidst the roaring chaos, ""no one touches you while I’m breathing.""
