Chapter 4 - The Threat on the Docks
Norah’s breath hitched. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stumbled backward. "Clara... oh god, no. They found her."
"Elias," Gabriel roared, his voice shaking the glass walls of the office. "How did they find her? The facility was supposed to be completely off the grid!"
"We don't know, Boss," Elias said, his head bowed. "Our informants say Dominic Vance turned himself in to the Marcones to save his own skin. He gave them Clara’s location."
"Mr. Costa, please," Norah gasped, grabbing Gabriel’s lapels. Her flawless, professional composure was gone, replaced by the raw, desperate panic of a sister. "You have to help her. I’ll do anything. I’ll sign whatever you want. I’ll work for you for the rest of my life for free. Just don't let them hurt her."
Gabriel placed his large, warm hands over hers, pulling her close against his chest. The contact was electric, a sudden, fierce connection that made both of them freeze for a second.
"Look at me, Norah," Gabriel said, his voice commanding but filled with an intense, protective warmth. "I am not going to make you sign anything. And you do not owe me your soul. I am going to save your sister because she is your family. And anyone who touches what is yours is touching what is mine."
He turned to Elias. "Get the cars ready. We are going to the docks. And call Richard Marcone. Tell him I am coming to negotiate personally."
"Boss," Elias hesitated. "Marcone’s territory is heavily fortified. If we go in there without a full assault team—"
"I don't care," Gabriel growled. "We go now."
Thirty minutes later, three black armored SUVs tore through the industrial gates of the western docks. The rain had returned, a cold, gray drizzle that slicked the asphalt and made the massive shipping containers look like giant, rusted tomb monuments.
Gabriel stepped out of the lead vehicle, holding a massive black umbrella. He reached back, helping Norah out of the high seat. He had refused to leave her behind, knowing that she would only panic at the office, and more importantly, he wanted her under his direct protection.
A group of heavily armed men in dark leather jackets stood near a crane. At their center was Richard Marcone, an older, heavy-set man with a scar running down his left cheek, and beside him, Dominic Vance—a nervous-looking young man with a bruised face.
But there was no sign of Clara.
"Gabriel," Richard Marcone called out, his voice raspy. "You’re a long way from home. And you brought your pretty little secretary. I hear she’s been hiding Vance’s woman."
"Let’s skip the pleasantries, Richard," Gabriel said, stepping forward, his umbrella held high. "Where is the girl?"
"She’s in a safe place," Marcone sneered. "But she’s costing me money. Vance here owes me fifty grand. And the shipping lines you took from us last year are worth a lot more. We want the western ports back, Gabriel. You sign over the shipping rights, and the girl lives to have her baby."
Norah stepped out from behind Gabriel, her eyes bright with fury. "Dominic, you coward! She is pregnant with your child! How could you do this to her?"
Dominic looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. "I had no choice, Norah. The Marcones were going to kill me."
"You are a pathetic excuse for a man," she spat.
Gabriel placed a hand on Norah’s shoulder, guiding her back. He looked at Marcone. "The western ports are worth twenty million dollars a year, Richard. You think I’m going to trade my primary distribution line for a girl I don't even know?"
Norah gasped, looking at Gabriel in horror. "Gabriel... no."
Gabriel didn't look at her, but his grip on her shoulder tightened slightly—a signal to stay quiet.
"I’m a businessman, Richard," Gabriel continued, his voice cold and analytical. "I don't make bad investments. But I am willing to offer you a different deal. Fifty thousand dollars cash to cover Vance’s debt. And I won't kill every single one of your men standing on this pier today."
Marcone laughed, a loud, ugly sound. "You think you can threaten me on my own docks, Costa? Look around. You’re outnumbered."
As if on cue, thirty more of Marcone’s men stepped out from behind the shipping containers, their weapons aimed directly at Gabriel’s small team.
But Gabriel only smiled—a cold, terrifying expression that made even Marcone’s laughter die in his throat.
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"You think I came here to talk, Richard?" Gabriel said softly. "I took your ports last year because you were slow. I am taking your docks today because you are stupid."
Gabriel raised his left hand, and suddenly, the fog-filled harbor was filled with the deafening roar of helicopter blades.
