Chapter 6 - THE WATERFRONT WAREHOUSE
The silence in the SUV was heavier than the storm raging outside.
Roman stared at the note on the back of the ledger. Ten years ago, his mentor—the man who had taught him how to survive the Chicago streets—was gunned down in an alley. Roman had spent a decade hunting the killer, tearing through rival gangs, building his empire on the promise of vengeance.
And the man responsible had just tried to become his father-in-law.
“Richard Sterling,” Roman whispered, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, absolute stillness. He slowly crumpled the ledger in his fist. “He murdered him. And then he smiled in my face and drank my wine tonight.”
I watched Roman’s hands grip the steering wheel until the leather groaned. The mafia boss I had served champagne to was gone. The man sitting next to me was a weapon with the safety off.
“Roman,” I said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “We have to get Lily and Tony first. If Richard knows we have the ledger, he’ll kill them to tie up loose ends.”
Roman took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked at my hand on his arm, then up to my eyes. The feral rage receded, replaced by a cold, calculating focus.
“You’re right,” he said. He started the engine. “We’re going to the waterfront.”
“We need a plan,” I said as we sped toward the docks. “They expect you to come alone. They expect you to walk through the front door with the pawn ticket. It’s an ambush.”
“I know,” Roman said. He reached into his console and pulled out a spare magazine for his handgun.
“I catered an event at the old Sterling shipping warehouses three months ago,” I said, my mind racing, pulling up the memory of the blueprints the catering company had given us. “Richard owns Pier 4. The main warehouse has a reinforced steel front door, but the loading docks in the back connect directly to the underground storm drains. That’s how we brought the ice sculptures in without the guests seeing.”
Roman looked at me, genuinely impressed. “You know how to sneak into the building.”
“I know how to get us into the basement,” I corrected. “But we’re going to be outgunned.”
“Leave the guns to me,” Roman said grimly.
We parked three blocks from Pier 4. The rain was a torrential downpour, the wind howling off Lake Michigan, masking the sound of our footsteps. We slipped down a muddy embankment and entered the massive concrete tunnel of the storm drain.
The water was up to our ankles, freezing and foul. I shivered violently in my soaked waitress uniform, but I kept moving, guiding Roman through the pitch-black maze using the flashlight on my phone.
“Here,” I whispered, pointing to a rusted iron grate in the ceiling of the tunnel.
Roman boosted me up. I pushed the grate aside, and we climbed into the pitch-black basement of the warehouse.
Above us, we could hear muffled voices.
We crept up the concrete stairwell to the main floor. The heavy steel door was cracked open an inch.
Roman peered through the gap. I leaned over his shoulder.
The warehouse was massive, illuminated by harsh overhead work lights. In the center of the room, Tony was tied to a wooden chair. His face was badly bruised, his lip split and bleeding.
Next to him, sitting on a crate and clutching a dirty teddy bear, was little Lily. She was crying softly.
Surrounding them were six armed men in dark suits.
And standing directly in front of Tony, holding a silver cane, was Richard Sterling. Charlotte stood behind him, wrapped in a designer trench coat, looking nervous but entirely complicit.
“It’s midnight, Tony,” Richard said, checking his gold Rolex. “Your boss is late. It seems Roman doesn't care about you as much as you thought.”
“Roman isn't stupid,” Tony spat, blood dripping from his chin. “He knows this is a trap. He’s going to burn your entire world to the ground.”
Richard laughed, a dry, cruel sound. “Roman is a street rat who got lucky. Tonight, I take his empire, I clear my debt with Moretti, and I finally erase the DeLuca name from Chicago.”
Roman tensed beside me, his hand gripping the cold steel of the door handle. He was preparing to breach. He was going to take on six armed men alone to save his friend.
“Wait,” I whispered desperately, grabbing his wrist. “You can’t. They’ll shoot Lily.”
Roman stopped. His eyes were pure agony.
I looked around the dark stairwell. My catering memory kicked in again. I saw a massive red electrical panel on the wall.
“The main breaker,” I whispered. “If I kill the lights, you’ll have the advantage. You know the dark better than these rich men do.”
Roman looked at the panel, then at me. “Grace, as soon as the lights go out, I need you to run to Lily. Grab her and get back down this stairwell. Do not stop for anything.”
I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Roman raised his gun. “On three. One. Two.”
“Three!” I hissed, and I pulled the massive metal lever down with all my weight.
The warehouse plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
Chaos erupted instantly. Men shouted in confusion.
BANG. BANG.
Roman’s gun flashed in the dark, illuminating the warehouse in stroboscopic bursts. Two of Richard’s men dropped to the floor.
I didn't hesitate. I sprinted blindly into the dark, aiming for where I knew Lily was sitting.
“Lily!” I screamed over the gunfire.
I crashed into the wooden crate. Small arms wrapped around my neck instantly.
“I got you!” I yelled, scooping the seven-year-old girl into my arms.
I turned to run back toward the stairwell, but the emergency backup generators suddenly kicked on.
Dim, red emergency lights bathed the warehouse in a hellish glow.
Roman was fighting hand-to-hand with two guards. Tony had managed to knock his chair over, taking out a third guard's knees.
But as I ran toward the stairs with Lily in my arms, a figure stepped into my path.
May you like
It was Richard Sterling. And he was pointing a gun directly at my chest.
“Put the child down, you little nobody,” Richard snarled, cocking the hammer. “Or I kill you both.”
