06
I stared at Marco’s hand on mine, my heart racing at his unexpected proposal. Before I could answer, my phone buzzed. A message from my father lit up the screen.
“Kabbaro’s made a move on the docks”
My breath caught. The Kabbaro family had been pushing boundaries lately, testing our defenses, but hitting shipping routes? That was a declaration of war
“Something wrong?” Marco’s expression shifted, all business now
I pulled my hand back, gathering my thoughts. “The Kabbaros are causing trouble at the docks.”
His jaw tightened, “Shanya’s work, no doubt. She’s been getting bolder since her marriage to Ricci.”
“How do you know about all of this?”
“Like I said, I make it my business to know” He signaled the waiter “We should go. Those shipments are as much my concern as yours now.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t said yes yet.”
gours
“But you
will.” He stood, offering his hand. “Because right now, you need someone who understands this world.
Someone who can help you handle Shanya without starting a war.”
Another text buzzed through. Two of our men were down,
“Fine “I grabbed his hand, letting him pull me up. “But this doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to fall in love with you” “We’ll see.” His eyes gleamed as we rushed out of the restaurant “First, let’s show the Kabbaros what happens when they mess with both our families.”
The weight of my gun pressed against my thigh as we hurried to his car, Maybe he was right – having someone who understood this life, who didn’t need the sugar–coated version of who I really was, could be exactly what i
needed.
But love? That would have to wait. Right now, we had a messi send.
Marco’s Ferrari roared through the streets of New York, weaving between cars with practiced precision. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the door handle.
in.”
“The south entrance will be watched,” I said, pulling up the dock’s layout on my phone. “We need another way
“I know a spot ” Marco took a sharp turn, tires screeching “Used it years ago when the feds were sniffing around my imports.”
“Your imports?”
“Let’s just say the Vercetti family has interests everywhere.” He flashed me a sideways grin. “Including those
8:51 AM c c.
We pulled into a narrow alley between two warehouses. The salt air hit my nose as Marco killed the engine. Through the chain–link fence, I spotted movement near the containers – Kabbaro’s men, no doubt.
“Four on the ground.” I checked my gun. “Maybe more inside.”
“Six.” Marco pulled out his own piece. “Two more on the roof. Amateur hour – they’re silhouetted against the
moon.”
I studied his face in the darkness. The playful businessman was gone, replaced by someone who moved with the practiced efficiency of a predator. Everything about him screamed danger,
“You’ve done this before.”
“More times than I care to count.” He checked his clip. “Stay close. We’ll circle around through the maintenance
tunnel.”
“I can handle myself”
“Never said you couldn’t.” He touched my arm. “But we work better as a team, remember?”
The maintenance tunnel was pitch black and smelled of rust and seawater. Our footsteps echoed despite our – best efforts. At the far end, voices carried through the ventilation shaft – Kabbaro’s men arguing over the shipment
“They’re trying to force the container open,” I whispered
“Not for long.” Marco pressed against the wall, gesturing toward the exit. “Ladies first.”
I rolled my eyes but took point anyway. The cool metal of my gun steadied my Whatever was in that shipment, Shanya wanted it badly enough to risk war
nerves as /Crat
forward.
I crouched behind a stack of crates, Marco’s breath warm against my neck as he pressed close. The container
doors groaned under the pressure of Kabbaro’s men trying to pry them open.
“We need a distraction,” I whispered
Marco’s hand brushed my waist as he reached for something in his jacket “Watch this.” He pulled out a small device, no bigger than a lighter. “Count to three after I throw it.”
His fingers grazed mine as he squeezed past, staying in the shadows. The device sailed through the air, landing with a soft clink near the container. Three heartbeats later, a deafening bang and flash lit up the night.
Shouts and curses filled the air. Through the chaos, Marco grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the container His touch sent electricity through my skin, but I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.
- in.
“Cover me,” I said, breaking away to check the lock. The mechanism was intact – they hadn’t managed to break
Marco stood guard, his back against mine. The solid warmth of him steadied my nerves as I pulled out my phone
to call reinforcements
“Behind you!”
I spun at Marco’s warning. One of Kabbaro’s men charged through the smoke. Before I could raise my gun, Marco’s arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me aside. The attacker’s knife sliced air where I’d been standign
We moved in sync, as if we’d fought together for years. Marco’s shoulder brushed mine as we circled our opponent. The thug lunged again. I dropped and swept his legs while Marco delivered a knockout blow
“Nice moves,” I said, straightening up.
His hand lingered on my back. “We make a good team.”
More footsteps approached. Marco pulled me into the shadow of the container, his body shielding mine from view. My heart raced, and not just from the fight. His cologne mixed with gunpowder and sea air, making my head spin
“Your men are two minutes out,” he murmured against my ear. “Think we can hold them off till then?”
The
I turned my face toward his, our lips inches apart. “Watch me.”
I moved with practiced precision, years of training kicking in. My father hadn’t just sent me to ballet and piano lessons like other mafia daughters. No, my childhood consisted of learning from ex–special forces operators, champion martial artists, and underground fighters who knew every dirty trick in the book
A thug rushed at me with a knife. I caught his wrist, using his momentum to flip him over my shoulder. The guy hit the concrete with a satisfying thud.
Marco whistled low “Impressive.”
“You should see me on a good day.” I blocked another attacker’s punch, countering with an elbow strike to his
solar plexus.
Two more of Shanya’s men emerged from behind a stack of containers. I recognized their stance – military trained, not your average muscle. Marco and I pressed back–to–back, our breathing synchronized
“Seven o’clock,” he muttered.
I spun, catching movement in my peripheral vision. A glint of metal under the dock lights. “Gun!”
We dove behind a shipping container as bullets pinged off metal. The sharp crack of gunfire echoed across t water. I pulled my Glock, checking the magazine.
“How many rounds you got?” Marco asked, returning fire.
“Twelve, plus one in the chamber.” I risked a peek around the corner. “They’ve got us pinned ”
More shots rang out, closer this time. They were trying to flank us. I spotted a shadow moving between
containers to our left.
“We need to split up,” I said “Draw their fire in different directions
Marco grabbed my arm. “That’s suicide.”
“Trust me.” I met his eyes. “My father didn’t spend a fortune on combat training for me to hide behind boxes
Before he could argue, I rolled to the next container, Bullets sparked off the ground where I’d been seconds before. I came up shooting, forcing one of the gunmen back into cover.
Then I heard the distinctive click of a shotgun being racked behind my head.
“Don’t move,” a gravelly voice ordered.
