Chapter 10 - The Ambush at the Docks
The ballroom exploded into absolute slaughter.
Gunfire rained down from the balcony like a metal storm.
Glass shattered as chandelier crystals crashed onto the oak table.
Salvatore Falcone drew a snub-nosed revolver from his boot and shot the Bellini guard standing near the side exit.
Luca didn't flinch.
He leaped across the horseshoe table with terrifying speed.
He tackled Carlo Bellini to the ground, smashing the older man’s head against the hardwood floor.
Carlo groaned in agony, his nose broken, blood splattering across his tailored suit.
“Luca, look out!” I screamed.
From the corner of the room, Isabella was aiming her revolver directly at Luca’s back.
I didn't think about the danger.
I grabbed a heavy bronze ice bucket from the catering cart and hurled it with all my strength.
The bucket struck Isabella squarely in the shoulder.
Her shot went wild, embedding itself in the ceiling plaster.
Her revolver clattered across the floor.
Isabella turned toward me with feral hatred, lunging forward with her manicured nails outstretched.
I ducked beneath her wild swing, stepped into her space, and drove my fist directly into her stomach the way my father had taught me years ago.
Isabella gasped, doubling over, coughing on the carpet.
Matteo rushed forward and kicked her weapon away, pinning her wrists behind her back.
Up on the balcony, Daniel was systematically returning fire, dropping two Bellini snipers who tumbled over the railing onto the ballroom floor below.
“Boss!” Daniel shouted through the smoke.
“More Bellini enforcers are surrounding the building outside! We need to move!”
Luca hauled Carlo Bellini up by his collar.
Carlo was gasping for air, spitting blood onto Luca’s shirt.
“You won't... leave this city alive, Luca...” Carlo wheezed with a bloody grin.
“My docks... my men control every exit...”
“The docks aren't yours, Carlo,” Luca said coldly.
He dragged Carlo toward the service freight elevator at the rear of the ballroom.
Falcone and four surviving captains fell in behind us, their personal bodyguards forming a protective shield.
“Where are we going, Luca?” Falcone barked, reloading his weapon.
“Navy Pier,” Luca said, his voice cutting through the ringing in our ears.
“Pier 44. That’s where Carlo stores his offshore cash and escape boats.”
We crammed into the massive freight elevator and descended to the subterranean loading dock.
Three armored vans were idling near the underground ramp.
Luca threw Carlo into the back of the lead van like a sack of garbage.
He pushed Isabella in beside her father.
“Emma,” Luca said, turning to me.
His face was streaked with black soot, but his gray eyes were ablaze with protective fire.
“Get in the front seat with Daniel.”
“I’m staying with you,” I insisted, grabbing the lapel of his jacket.
Luca paused.
He looked down at my hand gripping his suit, then into my eyes.
“It's going to get worse at the pier, Emma.”
“I know,” I said.
“You’ve saved my life three times tonight. I’m not leaving your side now.”
A fierce, dark pride flashed across his features.
“Then get in the back with me.”
We raced through the empty streets toward Lake Michigan.
The sky in the east was just beginning to turn from pitch black to a bruised, deep navy blue.
Dawn was less than forty minutes away.
We arrived at Pier 44.
A massive corrugated steel warehouse stood at the end of the long concrete pier, surrounded by dark, churning lake water.
Docked alongside the warehouse was an eighty-foot luxury yacht, its engines humming softly in the fog.
As our vans screeched to a halt on the wet concrete, floodlights on the warehouse roof snapped on, blinding us with white glare.
Dozens of armed men emerged from the shadows of shipping containers, surrounding our vehicles in an iron ring.
Leading them was Vanessa Bellini.
She had changed into black tactical pants and a heavy leather coat.
In her right hand, she held an automatic shotgun.
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“Let my father go, Luca!” Vanessa screamed through the fog.
“Or none of you will ever see the sunrise!”
