Or for an ambush.
“Boss, the shipment’s already here.” Marco appears from the shadows, his long brown and gray hair pulled back, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter. “Right on schedule.”
I nod, but something feels off. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, that sixth sense that’s kept me alive for twenty-plus years in this business.
The dock is too quiet. Even the usual sounds of water lapping against the pilings seem muted.
“How many men do we have?” My hand instinctively moves to the Glock at my hip.
“Fifteen. Posted at every entrance.” Marco gestures to the warehouse ahead. “The product’s inside. Two million in heroin, just like we ordered.”
Two million.
Enough to keep my operations running for months and fund the legitimate businesses I’ve been building in the name of Nicole…but maybe also for Sophia.
The thought of her makes my chest tighten.
I left her sleeping in our bed, her black hair spread across my pillow. The desire to return to her roots deep in my chest.
One of Marco’s men is guarding her while Marco accompanies me.
While I trust his judgment, the scars of my past fuel my anxiety. Nicole was hurt at home, when I wasn’t there.
“Let’s make this quick,” I say, starting toward the warehouse.
That’s when the first shot rings out.
The bullet whizzes past my head, so close I feel the displacement of air.
I drop to the ground, rolling behind a stack of shipping containers as gunfire erupts from every direction.
Marco hits the deck beside me, already returning fire.
“It’s a fucking setup,” he shouts through the chaos.
No shit. I peer around the container and see muzzle flashes coming from the warehouse, from the rooftops, from behind crates.
We’re surrounded.
My men are scrambling for cover, but I can already see two bodies on the ground, not moving.
“Adrian Morello,” I growl, recognizing the tactical precision of the attack. Only he would have the balls and the resources to hit me like this.
More gunfire. One of my men screams, then silence.
The metallic taste of adrenaline floods my mouth as I return fire, taking down one of Adrian’s soldiers who’s foolish enough to break cover.
He drops like a stone, and I feel nothing.
No satisfaction. No remorse.
Just cold calculation.
This isn’t about the drugs. This is about sending a message.
“Fall back to the vehicles!” I order, but even as I say it, I hear explosions.
They’ve taken out our SUVs. Flames light up the fog, casting everything in an orange glow that makes the scene look like something out of hell.
