Chapter 7 - The Docks at Midnight
The rain pelted the corrugated metal roof of Pier 44 as Dante and Emily stepped out into the biting Chicago wind. Emily clutched her trench coat tightly around her, her sensible flats splashing uncomfortably into puddles of greasy water.
Tommy and four armed enforcers flanked them as they approached the main administrative office of the union. Marcus Vance sat inside behind a cluttered desk, counting stacks of banded cash with a smug grin.
The door swung open with a loud bang, revealing Dante Marino standing in the doorway like an avenging angel. Marcus froze, the money slipping from his fingers and scattering across the dirty linoleum floor.
"Boss," Marcus stammered, scrambling to his feet while his hand inched toward a hidden holster. "I wasn't expecting you down here in this weather."
"Clearly," Dante said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, flat register before he caught himself.
Emily stepped past Dante, carrying her clipboard like a shield of absolute bureaucratic authority. "Marcus, your depreciation logs for the crane rentals are off by four hundred thousand dollars," she announced loudly.
Marcus blinked, looking at the ordinary woman interrupting a cartel execution with accounting discrepancies. "Who the hell is this?"
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"I'm the person who is going to audit your prison sentence if you don't hand over the ledger," Emily replied, snapping her pen against her palm.
Marcus lunged for the gun on his desk, but Dante moved with terrifying speed, slamming the heavy iron drawer shut onto Marcus's hand. A bone-crunching shriek filled the room as Marcus collapsed to his knees in agony.
