Chapter 5 - THE SHOWDOWN AT PIER 42Hook Headline: HE THOUGHT HE COULD RUN TO DUBAI WITH HIS BROTHER'S LIFE—UNTIL THE LIGHTS WENT OUT!
Back at the edge of the pier, Ricardo was growing restless. He kept checking his expensive watch—the very watch he had stolen from my dresser while I was deployed.
“What is taking them so long?” Ricardo demanded, pacing back and forth in front of The Broker. “It’s just one defenseless, broken woman!”
“Your men are incompetent, Vance,” The Broker said coldly, signalling his own bodyguard to reach into his suit coat. “And this meeting is compromised. We are leaving.”
“Wait! No! We have to finalize the wire transfer!” Ricardo begged, grabbing The Broker’s sleeve.
Suddenly, a loud, deafening POP echoed across the shipping yard as the main power generator for Pier 42 exploded into a shower of sparks. The sodium floodlights died instantly, plunging the entire dock into pitch-black darkness, save for the flickering lights of the city skyline across the bay.
Panic erupted.
“What the hell was that?!” Ricardo shrieked.
Through the darkness, the red laser sight of my rifle burned a sharp, bright beam onto the center of Ricardo’s chest.
“If anyone moves a muscle, my brother dies first,” my voice echoed through the dark dock, amplified by the heavy shipping containers surrounding them.
The Broker’s bodyguard drew his pistol, but before he could acquire a target, a suppressed shot whipped through the night air—THWIP!—shattering the pavement at the bodyguard’s feet. The guard instantly dropped his weapon and raised his hands. He was a mercenary; he wasn't paid enough to fight an unseen ghost in the dark.
“Alejandro?!” Ricardo screamed, his voice cracking with sheer terror as he stared down at the red dot dancing over his heart. “Alejandro, stop this! We’re blood! We’re family!”
“Family?” I stepped slowly out of the shadows, my night-vision goggles flipped up over my forehead, my rifle trained squarely on his chest. Elena walked up right beside me, holding a waterproof tactical tablet.
“Family doesn't beat a woman,” I said, my voice as cold as ice. “Family doesn't threaten to murder their own brother on the battlefield. And family certainly doesn't try to frame an innocent woman for international criminal syndicates.”
“It was Mother!” Ricardo cried, turning pale as a sheet, his knees shaking uncontrollably. “It was all Victoria’s idea! She hated Elena! She said Elena wasn't worthy of the family name! She forced me to set up the shell companies!”
“Liar!” Elena yelled, stepping forward into the faint moonlight. She tapped the screen of the tablet. Instantly, a high-definition audio recording began playing at maximum volume through the speaker system of the pier.
It was a recording from two hours ago—taken from a bug I had planted in Doña Victoria’s living room.
“Make sure Ricardo gets Elena’s signature on the final transfer tonight,” Victoria’s recorded voice echoed crisp and clear. “Once the Russian takes the company, we’ll sell the main house, put Alejandro in jail for treason using the fake manifests, and leave for Europe before the month ends.”
Ricardo swallowed hard, looking around frantically for an escape route, but the ocean was behind him and dark steel walls surrounded him on every side.
“The Broker won't help you, Ricardo,” I said smoothly. “Because five minutes ago, federal agents intercepted the bank routing numbers on that server. They know everything.”
The Broker’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Ricardo with utter disgust, tossed the leather portfolio onto the wet ground, and turned to walk toward his car. “You are a fool, Vance. Deal with your brother yourself.”
“Wait! Don't leave me!” Ricardo screamed.
As the Broker’s car sped away into the rain, leaving Ricardo alone on the edge of the pier, I walked up to him, lowered my rifle, and slammed my fist straight into the center of his face.
The crack of his nose breaking was loud in the night air. Ricardo collapsed into a heap on the wet asphalt, crying out in agony, clutching his bloody face.
I knelt down, reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out Elena’s antique heart-shaped locket.
May you like
I wiped the rainwater off the silver cover and gently handed it back to Elena. She clutched it to her chest, tears spilling from her eyes—not of fear this time, but of pure relief.
“Get up, Ricardo,” I ordered coldly. “We’re going home to see Mother.”
