Chapter 3 - Blood on the Harbor Docks
The rain had turned to sleet by 2:00 AM, coating the industrial piers of Calumet Harbor in a greasy layer of black ice. Steam rose from Dante’s exhaust pipes as a fleet of four black SUVs slid to a halt outside the rusted corrugated iron gates of Hale Maritime Logistics.
Dante stepped out, flanked by eight men carrying automatic weapons. He had shed his ruined evening coat, now wearing a black tactical jacket with the collar turned up against the wind. In his right hand, he carried a short, weighted tire iron.
The security guard at the gatehouse didn't even have time to reach for his radio before Lorenzo smashed the glass window and unlocked the crossbar.
Dante kicked open the heavy metal door to the operations office. Inside, Richard Hale—a bloated, sixty-year-old shipping tycoon with silver hair and an expensive cigar resting in an ash tray—looked up from a desk covered in manifests and shipping manifests. Beside him, Vanessa was huddled on a leather sofa, still wearing her red dress, her makeup ruined by tears.
""Dante!"" Richard barked, half-standing with righteous indignation. ""You broke into my private dock! What is the meaning of this? Vanessa told me you lost your damn mind at the dinner, but this is corporate suicide! I have the alderman on speed dial—""
Dante crossed the room in three strides. He didn't speak. He slammed the tire iron across the center of Richard Hale's mahogany desk, splitting the polished wood clean in half and sending phones, documents, and whiskey glasses shattering across the linoleum.
Richard fell back into his leather chair, gasping, all color draining from his bloated face. Vanessa let out a shrill scream, curling her knees to her chest.
""Where is she, Richard?"" Dante whispered, leaning over the shattered desk. The silence in the room was absolute, punctuated only by the drip of rainwater from Dante’s jacket onto the carpet.
""Where is who?!"" Richard stammered, raising his trembling hands. ""Your wife? How the hell would I know where she went? Vanessa came straight here after you threw her out!""
Dante turned his cold, pitiless gaze onto Vanessa. She shrank back against the sofa cushions, pulling her stole around her bare shoulders.
""You told Isabella that your father and mine had an agreement,"" Dante said. ""You told her that my father promised me to you before he died.""
""It was just talk!"" Vanessa cried out, tears cutting tracks through her foundation. ""Everyone knew your father wanted the families united! My father told me you’d realize it eventually once you got tired of playing house with a baker’s daughter!""
""My father died eight years ago,"" Dante said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper that made the armed guards outside the doorway lower their heads. ""And the only agreement in his will regarding the Hale family was an option to buy your shipping slips if your debt exceeded your assets. Which it did, three weeks ago.""
Richard Hale froze, his eyes widening in terror. ""You... you bought my bank notes?""
""Every single one,"" Dante replied, reaching into his pocket and tossing a damp stack of legal filings onto the ruined desk. ""I own your cranes. I own your warehouses. I own the water beneath your ships. I was going to hand the voting shares over to you tonight as a gesture of goodwill to honor our fathers' history. But you let your daughter walk into my home, steal my dead mother’s necklace, and poison the mind of the only woman I have ever loved.""
""Dante, please,"" Richard begged, sinking to his knees on the glass-strewn floor. ""We didn't know she was sick! We didn't know she would run! Vanessa was just ambitious—she thought if she pushed a little, the girl would take a cash settlement and leave!""
""She's seven months pregnant,"" Dante snarled, grabbing Richard by the lapels of his suit and hoisting the heavy man until his feet barely brushed the floor. ""She is out in the freezing rain bleeding because of your daughter’s ambition. Now you listen to me, Richard. You run this harbor. You control the underground couriers and the dockworkers who handle the cash drops on the South Side. If Isabella tries to leave this city through your docks, or if anyone in your network spots a brunette woman alone in Bridgeport or Hyde Park, you report it to Lorenzo immediately.""
""I will! I swear on my life, Dante, I’ll put every crane operator on watch!""
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Dante dropped the old man like a sack of wet flour. He turned back toward the door, pausing just beside Vanessa’s trembling form.
""If my wife dies tonight,"" Dante said without looking at her, ""you will never see another sunrise. Pray for her, Vanessa. It’s the only thing keeping you alive.""
