Chapter 6 - THE SHIPYARD TRAP

The San Pedro shipyard was a labyrinth of rusted shipping containers and towering cranes, shadowed by the fog rolling in from the ocean. The air smelled of salt, diesel, and impending violence.
Clare’s convoy rolled to a stop in the center of a clearing. Headlights cut through the mist, illuminating a dozen heavily armed cartel foot soldiers. In the center stood Hector Reyes, a heavily scarred man smoking a cigar, exuding arrogant confidence.
Beside him, two men held a woman.
She was thin, her clothes ragged, her head slumped forward. But even through the fog and the distance, Clare knew the slope of those shoulders.
"Marie," Clare breathed, her heart seizing in her chest.
"Step out, Mrs. Lauron!" Hector shouted over the hum of the engines. "Just you and the digital keys to the ports! No funny business, or my men turn your daughter into Swiss cheese."
Clare stepped out of the vehicle. The cold wind whipped her trench coat around her legs. She held a silver briefcase in her right hand, containing a biometric drive that supposedly held the port access codes.
She walked slowly, Vance flanking her five paces behind, a high-powered rifle resting casually but lethally against his hip. Unseen in the shadows of the cranes above, four of Vance’s elite snipers had already acquired their targets.
"You look good for a grandmother," Hector laughed as Clare approached. "Hand over the drive."
"Let me see her face," Clare demanded, stopping ten feet away. "Let me see my daughter."
Hector snapped his fingers. One of the thugs grabbed the woman by the hair and yanked her head up.
Clare’s breath hitched. It was Marie. Her cheekbones were sharp from starvation, her lip was split, and a horrific bruise covered half her face, but her eyes—those beautiful green eyes—locked onto Clare’s.
"Mom?" Marie’s voice was a broken, raspy whisper. "The girls... where are my girls?"
"They are safe, baby," Clare said, a single tear escaping her iron control. "They are at the house. They are eating, and sleeping, and they are safe."
Marie let out a sob of pure, unadulterated relief, her body going limp.
"Touching," Hector sneered. "Now, the drive."
"Of course," Clare said smoothly. She tossed the silver briefcase to the ground at Hector's feet. "But there's one thing you should know about my port operations, Hector."
Hector frowned, looking down at the case. "What's that?"
"They are federally monitored." Clare’s eyes flashed with absolute venom. "Which means the moment you opened negotiations for them, you committed a federal terrorism offense. And I don't negotiate with terrorists."
Hector’s eyes widened. "Kill them!" he screamed.
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But Clare was already moving.
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