Chapter 9 - BLOOD AND BOURBON
The pier erupted.
Floodlights mounted on the shipping containers snapped on, blinding David and his men in a wash of brilliant, agonizing white light. Simultaneous sniper fire echoed across the water. Before David’s men could even squeeze their triggers, two of them dropped dead, their weapons clattering against the concrete.
I dove behind a rusted steel pylon as automatic gunfire shredded the air where I had been standing a second before. Wood splintered. Sparks rained down as bullets ricocheted off the metal.
“Get the ledger!” David shrieked, cowering behind the open door of his car, firing a silver pistol blindly into the fog.
Alessandro emerged from the mist like an avenging demon. He wasn't limping anymore. Adrenaline and pure fury propelled him forward. He moved with terrifying precision, taking down the third guard with two shots to the chest without breaking stride.
The fourth guard swung his rifle toward me, desperation in his eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact. But a massive weight slammed into me, throwing me to the wet wooden planks. Alessandro covered my body with his own as the guard fired. I heard a sickening thwack as a bullet found flesh, and Alessandro grunted, his body tensing hard against mine.
“Alessandro!” I screamed.
He rolled off me, ignoring the fresh blood pouring from his shoulder. He raised his weapon and fired a single shot directly through the guard’s forehead. The man crumpled.
Silence descended on the pier, broken only by the lapping of the dark water and the hiss of steam from the Mercedes' punctured radiator.
David was alone. He scrambled backward, slipping on the wet wood, dropping his empty silver pistol. He bumped against the edge of the pier, the freezing black water waiting below.
Alessandro stalked toward him, a dark silhouette against the glaring floodlights, his gun leveled at David’s chest.
“Wait! Wait!” David begged, holding his hands up, his arrogant facade completely shattered. He was weeping. “I can give you half! Fifty million, Romano! We can share it! Don't kill me!”
Alessandro didn't speak. He stepped aside, gesturing for me to come forward. I stood up, my knees shaking, and walked over to stand beside the mafia boss. I looked down at my husband, pathetic and sniveling on the ground.
“Katie, please,” David sobbed, reaching out toward my ankle. “I'm your husband. I'm Logan's father.”
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“Logan’s father died two years ago in a car crash,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “You’re just a ghost.”
I turned and walked away. A second later, a single gunshot echoed across the harbor, followed by the heavy splash of a body hitting the black water. The ghost was gone for good.
