Chapter 9 - The Crossfire at the Docks
“I’m right here, Richard,” I said, stepping smoothly out from behind the steel crate, my Sig Sauer held steady and leveled at the center of Richard’s chest.
Diana gasped, stumbling backward against a stack of pallets, while Richard didn't even flinch. He simply pivoted the muzzle of his hunting rifle toward me with terrifying calm.
“Marcus,” Richard said smoothly. “You always did know how to make an entrance. Did you bring the flash drive?”
“The drive stays in my pocket until the boy is walking out of here,” I replied, my voice hard as iron. “Let him go, Richard. This is between you and me. You want Vantage Logistics to win the acquisition? You want Moretti Shipping? Take it. But the kid has nothing to do with this.”
Richard let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, it’s much bigger than an acquisition now, Marcus. Your father destroyed my family’s shipping syndicate twenty years ago. Taking your company is just the interest payment. Killing you—and watching you lose everything you built—that’s the principal.”
He tightened his grip on the rifle trigger.
“Diana,” Richard commanded without looking away from me. “Go check his pockets. Get the flash drive.”
Diana hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes darting between Richard and me. Then, her expression hardening into cold resolve, she stepped forward, reaching out her hand toward my coat pocket.
“Don't do it, Diana,” I warned quietly, keeping my weapon locked on Richard. “You’ve already committed treason and kidnapping. Don't add murder to the charge sheet.”
“Shut up,” she hissed, her fingers brushing against my jacket.
That was the microsecond I needed.
As Diana’s hand reached my pocket, I didn't shoot Richard—I grabbed Diana’s wrist with my left hand and yanked her directly into the path of Richard’s line of fire, using her as a human shield while dropping flat onto the concrete floor.
Crack!
Richard’s hunting rifle roared, the heavy slug punching through the shoulder of Diana’s dress with a terrifying tear of fabric.
Diana shrieked in shock and pain, collapsing sideways onto the concrete as Richard swore loudly and tried to cycle the bolt for a second shot.
May you like
I didn't give him the chance.
From the floor, I raised my Sig Sauer and fired twice.
