Chapter 3 - Fire on the DocksThe air at Pier 14 smelled of burning rubber, scorched pine, and salt water.
Flames leaped fifty feet into the night sky, casting a violent orange glow over the rusted shipping containers and the dark, oily surface of the river. Fire sirens wailed in the distance, but for now, the docks belonged entirely to the shadows.
Dante’s black matte SUV slid to a halt fifty yards from the blazing warehouse.
Before the tires had even finished rolling, the doors opened, and four heavily armed men in tactical gear fanned out to secure the perimeter.
Sloan stepped out of the passenger side, pulling Dante’s cashmere sweater tighter around her against the biting wind coming off the water. Her eyes scanned the chaos with clinical detachment.
“He’s trying to burn the evidence,” Sloan said, her voice steady despite the roaring inferno fifty yards away. “If those physical ledgers in the back office turn to ash, the federal tax evasion charges against him disappear in smoke.”
“Not all of them,” a harsh voice rasped from behind a stack of steel cargo crates.
Sloan and Dante spun around.
Stepping out from the shadows of a towering crane was Marcus Vance—Richard Hayes’s head of security and enforcer. His face was streaked with soot, a jagged scar running down his cheek, and in his right hand, he clutched a heavy, nickel-plated 9mm pistol pointed directly at Sloan’s chest.
“Well, well, well,” Marcus sneered, blood dripping from a cut above his eyebrow. “The little nerd and her mafia boyfriend. Richard sent his regards. He said if he’s going down, he’s taking his ungrateful daughter with him.”
Dante didn't flinch. He didn't reach for his gun. He simply stood motionless, his dark eyes locking onto Marcus with an expression of profound pity.
“You’re pointing a gun at a woman who holds the routing codes to every single untraceable cargo ship on the East Coast, Marcus,” Dante said smoothly. “Do you honestly think that ends well for you?”
“Shut up!” Marcus screamed, his hand trembling as the flames roared behind them. “Give me the drive! The encrypted flash drive with the offshore asset transfers! Give it to me or I’ll blow her head off right now!”
Sloan looked at Marcus. Then she looked past him, toward the dark waters of the slip.
She didn't look scared. In fact, a faint, cold smile touched her lips.
“Marcus,” Sloan said, her voice ringing clear over the crackle of the fire. “Did you ever wonder why your boss never let you see the secondary backup server in the basement?”
Marcus hesitated, his eyes darting nervously. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that the moment you logged into the Pier 14 network tonight,” Sloan raised her wrist, tapping the glass of her smart watch, “my automated script detected the breach, locked the firewall, and automatically transferred every single piece of evidence directly to the U.S. Attorney General’s cyber-crime division.”
Marcus’s face drained of color. “You... you lied to us.”
“I’m an accountant, Marcus,” Sloan said sweetly. “Lying is just math with better PR.”
Before Marcus could pull the trigger, a sharp crack echoed through the night.
Marcus dropped his weapon, screaming as a bullet tore through his shoulder. He spun around and collapsed onto the gravel.
From the shadows behind the crane, one of Dante’s snipers lowered his suppressed rifle.
May you like
Dante stepped forward, kicking Marcus’s dropped pistol away into the dark water of the slip, before turning to Sloan. He pulled her gently against his chest, burying his face in her dark hair.
“Remind me never to cross you in a financial dispute,” Dante murmured against her ear.
