Chapter 5 - Bloodlines and Broken Loyalties
The journey north along the Hudson was cloaked in heavy, suffocating darkness. Sleet lashed against the windshield of my armored black sedan as we sped through the desolate, snow-dusted highways of upstate New York.
Beside me in the passenger seat, Paulie was tracking encrypted cell signals on a rugged tablet. ""Dominic's perimeter is active, Michael. He's stationed four spotters on the county access road and at least two marksmen on the rusted catwalks above the warehouse. If you drive straight up to the entrance, you’re driving into a crossfire.""
""Let them think I’m playing their game,"" I said, checking the chamber of my sidearm with a crisp metallic snap. ""Dominic wants Emma. That’s his leverage. He thinks I brought her in the back seat.""
""And what happens when he sees the car is empty?""
""He won't have time to process it,"" I replied coldly. ""Dominic is sloppy because he’s desperate. When a predator starves, he stops watching his flanks.""
We cut the headlights two miles out, coasting along an overgrown service road that bordered the icy canal. The warehouse was an abandoned paper mill, its crumbling brick chimneys silhouetted against the stormy night sky like jagged teeth. Dim yellow light spilled from the cracked windows of the loading dock, where two heavy pickup trucks were parked with their engines idling.
Paulie turned to me, his jaw set. ""Our flanking teams are in position through the woods. Give the word, and we blow the power grid.""
""Wait until I'm inside,"" I instructed. ""I need visual confirmation on Claire. If she’s in their line of fire when the lights drop, they’ll execute her instantly.""
I stepped out of the vehicle into the freezing wind, wrapping my dark overcoat around my shoulders. The sleet stung my face, but I barely felt it. Tucked into my inner pocket, beside the forged shipping yard deeds Dominic demanded, Emma’s guardian angel charm rested against my ribs.
I walked down the muddy incline toward the warehouse entrance, my boots crunching softly over gravel and broken glass. As soon as I cleared the treeline, two blinding halogen spotlights flared to life from the roof, pinning me in their harsh glare.
""Stop right there, Rivers!"" a voice barked through a megaphone from the catwalk.
Two armed guards in heavy parkas stepped out from behind the idling trucks, their assault rifles raised directly at my chest. One was a broad-shouldered thug with a scarred cheek; the other was Victor Vance himself, carrying an engraved nickel-plated revolver and sporting a sickening, predatory smirk.
""Well, well,"" Vance purred, circling me slowly while the other guard patted me down, stripping my visible shoulder holsters. ""The great Michael Rivers, king of Manhattan, walking into our yard like a stray dog in the snow.""
""Where is Dominic?"" I asked, my voice devoid of emotion.
""Inside, waiting on his retirement package,"" Vance sneered, snatching the thick legal envelope from my coat pocket and weighing it in his gloved hand. He peeked inside, his grin widening. ""Where's the kid, Rivers? Dominic told you to bring the brat.""
May you like
""You get the girl after I see Claire alive,"" I said, stepping forward until my chest was inches from the barrel of Vance's rifle. ""If Claire has a single mark on her, these deeds aren't worth the paper they're printed on, because I’ll burn the docks to the ground before Dominic touches a single crane.""
Vance’s smirk faltered slightly under the murderous certainty in my gaze. He spat onto the mud and jerked his head toward the rusted iron doors. ""Take him in. Let the boss handle him.""
