Chapter 9
The armored SUV tore fiercely through the midnight streets of the city, moving like a phantom in a fast convoy of heavily armed vehicles. Inside the dark, soundproofed cabin, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense, filled with the unspoken promise of impending violence.
Evander sat in the back seat, his broad shoulders relaxed against the premium leather, his posture exhibiting a terrifying, lethal calm. He checked the magazine of his sidearm, the sharp mechanical clicks echoing loudly in the quiet space. The refined tattoos on his hands moved fluidly in the passing, strobing streetlights.
Daisy sat across from him, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her elegant low twist had come slightly undone, a few stray, silky hairs brushing against her delicate cheekbones. She felt like a total imposter in this dark world of violence, yet she couldn't tear her eyes away from the Mafia boss.
"Are you cold, Daisy?" Evander asked, noticing the slight, nervous tremble in her shoulders.
"No, sir. Just anxious," Daisy replied quietly, looking out the tinted window at the dark, industrial buildings blurring past. They were rapidly nearing the harbor. The distinct smell of saltwater and diesel fuel was beginning to bleed into the car.
"Do you believe we will find him alive?" Evander asked. For the first time all evening, his deep voice carried a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of human vulnerability.
Daisy looked back at him, meeting his cold eyes in the shadows of the car. "I have to believe it, Mr. Cole. Hope is the only thing that outlasts grief."
Evander stared at her, deeply studying the sincere conviction in her softly tapered face. "Why did a woman with your intellect settle for scrubbing floors in my house?"
"My father owed a lot of money to terrible people when he died," Daisy explained, her voice remarkably steady. "Working for you afforded me the protection I needed. And it paid off the debts. I didn't plan on staying forever."
"Will you leave tomorrow, once this is over?" Evander asked, tilting his head.
The SUV suddenly lurched to a violent halt, throwing them slightly forward. Outside, the harsh, blinding glare of floodlights illuminated the towering shipping containers and heavy cranes of the southern docks. Gunfire instantly erupted in the distance, a loud staccato rhythm of violence shattering the coastal night.
"Boss, we have contact at the perimeter," the driver shouted urgently over the radio chatter. "Graham’s men are pinned down at the gates. The Marina’s Grace is docked at pier four, fifty yards ahead."
Evander holstered his weapon, his expression hardening back into an impenetrable mask of stone. He reached over and opened a hidden compartment under his seat, withdrawing a heavy Kevlar vest. He held it out toward Daisy.
"Will you put this on and stay exactly behind me?" Evander asked, his tone leaving absolutely no room for debate.
Daisy took the heavy vest, the sheer weight of it pulling her arms down. She slipped it over her head, the rough tactical fabric contrasting sharply with her sophisticated black maid dress. She tightened the side straps, her heart hammering wildly.
"Yes, sir," Daisy whispered.
May you like
Evander pushed the heavy armored door open, stepping out into the cold, chaotic night. The wind whipped his thick, wavy hair across his forehead. He turned back, offering his tattooed hand to help her down onto the concrete.
"Shall we go find my son?" Evander asked.
