Chapter 7 - The Rotor Wash
The gale-force downdraft from the unmarked black helicopter battered the wooden slats of the old boat house, sending rotting timber and dust swirling into the air.
Dominic hauled Vincent up by his collar, dragging the groaning, semi-conscious traitor through the low exit door out onto the rotting wooden pier. The freezing spray of the Long Island Sound hit his face instantly. Fifty yards offshore, a tactical chopper hovered low over the dark water, its side door slid open, revealing two armed men in black tactical gear lowering a winch cable.
They weren't federal marshals. They were private corporate recovery agents—a clean-up crew.
"Cover me!" someone shouted from the chopper's cabin over the deafening roar of the jet turbine.
A volley of silenced submachine gun fire chewed up the wooden planks of the pier just inches from Dominic’s boots, showering splinters into his shins. Dominic didn't hesitate. He shoved Vincent hard behind a reinforced piling, dropped flat onto his stomach, and reached down to snatch the tactical rifle Vincent had dropped in the tunnel.
It was a customized carbine with an integrated optic. Dominic flipped off the safety, rolled onto his back, and squeezed the trigger in a rapid three-round burst.
Clack-clack-clack.
The lead enforcer leaning out of the chopper's doorway jerked backward, hit in the shoulder, and dropped his weapon into the black water below.
"Abort! Abort!" the pilot screamed over the radio comms, yanking the collective pitch upward as the helicopter flared and banked hard away from the pier, climbing rapidly into the heavy cloud cover.
Dominic scrambled to his feet, coughing as the exhaust fumes washed over him, tracking the retreating aircraft until it vanished into the stormy night. He turned back to look at Vincent, but the traitor was already dragging himself toward the edge of the pier, bleeding profusely from his shoulder.
"You think you won, Dom?" Vincent laughed hysterically, spitting blood into the dark water. "Callahan has already initiated the asset freeze. By morning, every bank account, every ship, and every safehouse you own belongs to the syndicate. You're a ghost with an empty throne!"
Dominic walked over, grabbed Vincent by the hair, and hauled him upright with one hand.
"Tell Callahan his time is up," Dominic said coldly, before driving his fist into Vincent’s jaw, knocking him out cold.
May you like
He hoisted the limp body over his shoulder, turned his back on the Sound, and began the long walk back toward the mansion.
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