Chapter 9
The mouth of the subterranean tunnel opened onto a secluded, windswept dock nestled beneath the jagged sea cliffs of Ravenswick Point.
Rain fell in heavy, freezing sheets, lashed by the October wind coming off the dark, churning waters of the bay. Under the yellow glare of halogen work lights, Hector’s eighty-foot yacht, the Valkyrie, bobbed against the wooden pylons, its twin diesel engines idling with a deep, rhythmic thrum.
The Suburban roared out of the tunnel and screeched to a halt on the wet planks of the pier, water spraying in high arches from beneath its tires.
Hector stepped out into the biting gale, instantly pulling up the collar of his overcoat. Cassian moved quickly to the rear, hauling Julian and Odette out of the vehicle and forcing them toward the gangplank.
Maiselle was still asleep, exhausted by the trauma of the evening. Hector gently unbuckled her from the safety seat, lifting her into his arms and shielding her small body with the broad folds of his wool coat so the freezing rain never touched her skin.
He carried her aboard the yacht, descending straight to the master stateroom below deck. The room was warm, dry, and secure. He laid her down on the velvet berth, tucking the heavy duvet around her shoulders. She sighed softly in her sleep, her fingers still clasped around his gold pocket watch.
Hector kissed her forehead once, stepped out, and locked the stateroom door with a keycard.
When he returned to the open aft deck, Cassian had Julian and Odette kneeling on the wet teak planks in the pouring rain. The salt spray mixed with the blood running down Julian’s face. Odette was shivering violently, her soaked evening gown plastered to her trembling frame.
At the far end of the dock, cutting through the heavy fog, two dark silhouettes emerged.
Two luxury speedboats belonging to Don Carmine’s syndicate were idling three hundred yards offshore, their searchlights sweeping the dark water, blocking the mouth of the bay.
Hector’s satellite phone, resting on the deck console, began to ring.
Hector walked over, picked it up, and pressed the speaker button.
A raspy, gravelly voice cut through the sound of the falling rain.
"Hector," Don Carmine rasped from the other end of the line. "I understand dinner was a bit indigestion-inducing tonight."
Hector looked down at Julian and Odette. "Carmine. You sent a woman and a coward to do a man's job."
A dry, hacking laugh came over the speaker. "The woman was cheap, Hector. And Julian was ambitious. Ambitious men are easy to manipulate. But it doesn't matter now, does it? You have no house left. The family in New York thinks you’re dead. And you’re trapped in a bathtub with two of my gunboats waiting at the mouth of the harbor."
"Is that what you think, Carmine?" Hector asked, his voice completely calm.
"Give me the girl, Hector," Carmine said, his tone shifting into cold, brutal business. "Hand the child over to my men on the dock. You walk away with your life and a ticket to South America. We take the ports. We take the Ravenswick name. And the girl goes somewhere she won't ever be a problem again."
Julian looked up from the wet deck, his swollen eye gleaming with desperate hope. "Hector... take the deal... please... he’ll kill all of us..."
Hector didn't even look at Julian. He reached into his coat pocket, retrieved a small black remote detonator, and flipped up the plastic safety guard.
"Carmine," Hector said into the phone.
"Yeah?"
"The south gate of my estate wasn't the only thing wired tonight," Hector murmured. "Did you really think I didn't know your men set up their command post in the old boatyard across the bay?"
There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "What did you say?"
Hector pressed the red toggle switch on the remote.
Across the dark water of the bay, two miles to the north, a massive, thunderous fireball erupted into the rainy night sky.
The shockwave rolled across the water seconds later, tossing the Valkyrie against its moorings and lighting up the low clouds in an inferno of orange and black smoke. The two offshore speedboats instantly cut their searchlights, their radios bursting into panicked static as their base of operations was incinerated.
Hector brought the satellite phone back to his ear.
May you like
"Tell your remaining men to turn around, Carmine," Hector said, his voice dropping into pure, unadulterated venom. "Because when I come for you tomorrow, I’m not bringing poison. I’m bringing gasoline."
He crushed the satellite phone beneath his heel, shattering it into pieces.
