Chapter 9 - Justice Served
The air in the VIP room turned ice-cold. The surrounding gamblers, sensing danger, quickly backed away from the table.
"You walk into my house alone to threaten me?" The Broker laughed darkly, pulling a silver pistol from his belt. "You are either very brave or very stupid, little girl."
"I'm neither," I replied calmly. "I'm a Marine."
Before he could raise the weapon, I grabbed his wrist, slamming his hand onto the table, and drove my combat knife straight through the back of his palm, pinning his hand to the wood.
The Broker screamed in agony.
His bodyguards drew their weapons, but Marcus was already moving. Sparks flew as Marcus fired a non-lethal flash-bang grenade into the center of the room, blinding the guards. In the blinding light and deafening noise, I moved like a phantom.
Using leverage, throws, and tactical strikes, I dismantled the bodyguards one by one before they could fire a single clear shot. I swept their legs, disarmed their weapons, and left them unconscious on the floor.
When the smoke cleared, I was standing over The Broker, who was cradling his bleeding hand, trembling in absolute shock.
"Here's the deal," I said, leaning down close to his ear. "You give federal prosecutors a full confession regarding Victor Hartman’s syndicate. You turn state’s evidence, and you retire from South Florida permanently."
"And if I refuse?" he wheezed through the pain.
I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper that chilled him to the bone. "Then the next time I see you, I won't bring a knife. I'll bring the entire United States government, and I promise you, they won't be as gentle as I was."
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The Broker looked at his defeated guards, then at the icy resolve in my eyes. He realized he had lost.
"I'll talk," he gasped. "I'll give you everything."
