Chapter 7
Julian’s face went rigid as he read the names listed beside the shell accounts. “Dante... look at the transfer authorizations from twenty-two months ago. These aren’t old Moretti accounts. These are internal vouchers from our own port authority distribution contracts.”
Dante leaned over the screen, his expression becoming terrifyingly calm, the kind of stillness that always preceded an execution. “That signature code belongs to Marcus Vance. My father’s oldest lieutenant. The man who sat at my table two nights ago.”
Emma covered her mouth in shock. “The man with the scar under his chin? The drawing Lily made... she saw him at our apartment door before we moved to the penthouse. She said he had a red mark across his throat.”
“Marcus took shrapnel across his neck in Chicago twelve years ago,” Dante whispered, the final puzzle piece locking violently into place. “He didn't just keep Moretti’s shadow empire alive. He brought Emma into my tower intentionally so he could keep his eye on Daniel's missing drive.”
Before Julian could reply, the harsh beam of high-powered headlights suddenly tore through the locker’s opening, blinding them instantly. The sound of heavy vehicle doors slamming shut echoed over the rain, accompanied by the distinct, metallic racking of automatic weapons.
“Valenti!” a familiar gravelly voice shouted through a megaphone from behind the glare of the lights. “You should have stayed out of the lower basement, Dante! A boss is supposed to look at the sky, not dig through the trash of dead bookkeepers!”
Julian immediately shoved Emma and Lily behind the heavy steel desk just as the first spray of automatic gunfire shredded the corrugated walls. Metal screamed, concrete splintered in violent white puffs, and the smell of cordite instantly obliterated the scent of rust and rain.
Dante dropped to one knee, drawing his weapon and firing three deliberate, suppressed rounds through the gaps in the sheet metal outside. A man screamed in the darkness, followed by the heavy thud of a body dropping into the wet gravel.
“Julian, take the child and Emma through the rear maintenance hatch behind that wooden panel!” Dante commanded, his voice steady amid the deafening thunder of gunfire. “There is an old coal chute leading directly down to the river slipway!”
“I’m not leaving you behind to fight twenty men alone, boss,” Julian fired back, emptying his magazine toward the headlights and shattering both high beams. “We fight our way back to the Suburban together or we don’t leave this yard at all!”