Chapter 11 - THE TRAP CLOSES ON VITELLI
Pier 48 loomed out of the fog like a skeletal leviathan against Lake Michigan.
Rusting shipping containers towered into the damp night air.
Dante’s convoy of black SUVs stopped fifty yards from the main warehouse.
“When I give the signal, you flank the eastern loading bay,” Dante instructed his remaining loyal captains.
“If anything goes wrong, get Emma out of the city.”
“I’m not leaving you, Dante,” I said, chambering a round into my revolver.
He looked at me, a mixture of fierce pride and deep worry in his dark eyes.
“Stay alive then,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead before disappearing into the shadows.
I crept silently along the corrugated metal wall of the warehouse.
The salty wind whipped my hair across my face.
Through a cracked window, I saw Chloe tied to a wooden chair in the center of the cavernous room.
Marco Vitelli stood over her, holding a silver pistol to her temple.
“Where is she?” Marco barked at Chloe, who was sobbing silently.
“I don't know what you're talking about!” Chloe screamed.
I kicked the rusted side door open with a deafening crash.
“I’m right here, Marco!” I shouted, stepping into the blinding overhead lights with the leather ledger held high in my left hand and the revolver in my right.
Marco turned slowly, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
May you like
“Well, well,” Marco purred.
“The brave little waitress came after all.”
