Chapter 5 - BLOOD ON THE BOARDWALK
Two days later, the walls of the mansion were driving Emma insane. Seeing her restlessness, Dominic agreed to let her breathe outside the gates, though not without overwhelming force: Marco followed twenty paces behind, and Dominic walked beside her along a quiet, private stretch of the Miami Beach boardwalk at twilight.
The ocean breeze whipped loose strands of dark hair across Emma’s face. Dominic walked with his hands in the pockets of his dark trousers, his posture relaxed yet wound like a spring.
"Why do you do it?" Emma asked suddenly, looking at the crashing waves. "You’re educated. You could run any legitimate empire on Wall Street. Why choose a life where someone is always pointing a gun at your head?"
Dominic looked out at the horizon. "My grandfather built the Rossi shipping lines with his bare hands. When the cartels came to Miami in the eighties, they tried to burn his ships and murder his family. My father fought back using their own methods. Power isn't something you inherit cleanly, Emma. It's a fire. You either control it, or it burns everything you love to ash."
He paused, glancing at her. "What about you? Why kill yourself working eighty hours a week for scraps?"
"My dad incurred massive medical debts before he passed," Emma said quietly, looking down at the wooden planks. "He fought for this country, and when cancer hit, the system abandoned him. I promised him on his deathbed that I would pay off every cent, keep our family name clean, and build something of my own. I don't run from debts."
Dominic watched her, a rare flicker of raw admiration softening his features. "You have honor. It’s a rare currency in this city."
Before Emma could respond, Marco's voice crackled through the earpiece Dominic wore.
"Boss! Black van on the access road! Move!"
The air shattered.
Automatic gunfire ripped through the wooden boardwalk, sending splintered oak exploding into the air. Dominic lunged, tackling Emma to the sand beneath the elevated walkway just as a hail of bullets shredded the bench where she had been standing seconds prior.
"Stay down!" Dominic ordered, drawing a sleek black pistol from a shoulder holster.
Two masked gunmen dropped onto the beach, weapons raised. Dominic fired three double-taps with chilling precision. Both men dropped instantly into the surf. But a third gunman rounded the wooden pilings, aiming an assault weapon directly at Dominic’s exposed back.
Emma didn't hesitate. She grabbed a heavy drift log from the sand and hurled it with all her strength into the gunman's knees.
The attacker stumbled, his burst of fire spraying wildly into the night sky. Dominic spun on his heel and neutralized the threat with a single, devastating shot.
Silence fell over the beach, broken only by the sound of waves and the heavy panting of their breath. Dominic stood over the fallen attackers, his gaze drifting to Emma, who was covered in sand, her eyes blazing with fierce adrenaline.
Dominic walked over to her, reaching down to pull her to her feet. He didn't let go of her hand. "Twice now," he whispered, his thumb brushing a streak of black sand from her cheekbone. "You've saved my life twice."
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"I told you," Emma whispered back, her heart racing against his proximity. "I don't run."
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