THE WAITRESS AND THE MAFIA KING

"Nobody moves!" Marcus screamed, his voice cracking as he stared down at the blinking red light attached to the wooden planks of the pier. His armed guards instantly froze, terrified to shift their weight.

Julian stood ten feet away, perfectly calm, his hands still casually in his pockets. "I run the shipping ports, Marcus. Did you really think I wouldn't have my own docks wired?"

Mara watched from behind the rusted shipping container, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She kept the 9mm raised, her eyes locked on the men holding Elena.

"You push that button, you kill these girls too!" Marcus yelled, sweat beading on his forehead despite the freezing wind.

"The explosives are directional," Julian lied smoothly. He didn't have a detonator. The red light was a bluff—a prop tracker he had Silas’s men plant an hour ago. But Marcus, a developer used to boardrooms and briefcases, didn't know explosives. "They blow straight up. The girls are five feet outside the blast radius. You are standing dead center."

Marcus swallowed hard. His gun wavered.

"Let them go," Julian commanded, his voice dropping to that lethal, quiet register Mara recognized from the restaurant. "Send the girls walking toward me, and you get to walk to your car and leave Chicago tonight. You stay, and you burn just like my brother did."

Marcus looked at the blinking light. He looked at Julian's unwavering stare. He was a coward who had hired other men to do his killing for years.

"Let them go," Marcus barked at his guards.

The guards shoved Elena and Silas's daughter forward. The girls stumbled, crying, rushing toward Julian.

As soon as Elena crossed the halfway point, Mara broke cover. She sprinted across the damp pavement, throwing her arms around her sister. "I've got you, El. I've got you."

"Mara," Elena sobbed into her shoulder.

"Get them to the SUV," Julian ordered without looking back.

Mara turned to run, pulling Elena with her.

But as they moved, one of Marcus's guards, a young, nervous kid, panicked. He raised his rifle, aiming directly at Mara's back.

"No!" Julian roared.

Before the guard could pull the trigger, Julian lunged directly into the line of fire.

BANG.

The gunshot echoed like a cannon blast over the water.

Julian jerked violently as the bullet tore through his shoulder. He collapsed onto the wooden planks.

"Julian!" Mara screamed.

Chaos erupted. Julian's strike team, hidden in the shadows, opened fire on Marcus's men. The bluff was over. The docks lit up with the flashing muzzles of a dozen weapons.

Mara shoved Elena to the ground behind a steel pylon and turned back. She raised her gun, her hands finally perfectly steady, and fired twice at the guard who had shot Julian. The man dropped.

Marcus was already running, abandoning his men, sprinting toward his vehicle at the end of the pier.

Mara didn't care about Marcus. She ran to Julian.

He was lying on his back, clutching his shoulder, blood soaking rapidly through his crisp white shirt. His breathing was shallow, his teeth gritted in agony.

"I've got you," Mara choked out, ripping off her wool coat and pressing it hard against his wound to stop the bleeding.

Julian looked up at her, a faint, pained smile touching his lips. He reached into his uninjured side pocket with trembling, bloody fingers.

He pulled out a small, dark blue velvet box. It slipped from his grip and fell onto the wet wooden planks.

The latch popped open.

"Keep it safe," Julian whispered, before his eyes rolled back and he passed out completely.

Mara looked down at the velvet box.