Chapter 9 - GUNFIRE AND GLASS
“Thank you, Marcus,” I said coldly.
That was the signal.
Floodlights suddenly erupted from the surrounding cranes, turning the dark pier into blinding midday. Sirens wailed as unmarked FBI vans peeled out from behind stacks of shipping containers, blocking off the pier.
“FBI! Drop your weapons!” a voice boomed over a megaphone.
Chaos erupted. Vargas didn’t surrender; he raised his assault rifle and opened fire on the approaching vans. Marcus screamed, diving behind a rusted forklift.
I hit the deck as bullets sparked against the concrete, throwing the USB drive toward the water—a fake decoy I had purchased earlier. The real drive was already locked in an FBI evidence safe.
Gunfire tore through the night, a deafening roar of automatic weapons and shattering glass from the SUV. I crawled behind a stack of wooden pallets, my heart threatening to hammer out of my chest. Vargas’s men were falling under the FBI’s tactical assault, but Vargas himself was moving with terrifying speed, pushing through the crossfire, his eyes locked on me. He realized the setup. He wanted revenge.
He rounded the pallets, his rifle aimed directly at my head. “You die first!”
Before he could pull the trigger, a sharp crack echoed from above. Vargas jerked violently as a sniper’s bullet caught him in the shoulder, spinning him to the ground.
I didn't wait. I scrambled forward, grabbing the barrel of his dropped rifle and hurling it into the dark water. FBI agents swarmed the area, throwing Vargas to the pavement and securing his arms in zip-ties.
I looked up to see Marcus scrambling up a metal staircase leading to the crane catwalks, desperately trying to escape the net. I ran after him, my boots pounding against the steel stairs. I caught him on the second landing, tackling him hard against the metal railing.
He swung a desperate punch, catching my jaw. I tasted blood, but the pain only fueled me. I grabbed him by the lapels of his expensive suit and slammed him back against the railing, pinning him over the lethal drop below.
“It’s over, Marcus,” I spat, breathing heavily. “You lost.”
He looked down at the swirling black water, then back up at me, the arrogance completely gone, replaced by pathetic terror. “Please, Charles. We’re brothers. We built the company together.”
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“You tried to kill the only woman I ever loved,” I whispered, my grip tightening until he gasped for air.
For one dark, fleeting second, I considered letting him fall. But I was an architect, not a killer. I dragged him away from the edge and threw him onto the steel floor just as Agent Rostova and her team rushed up the stairs with drawn weapons.
