Chapter 7 - The Harbor Terminals
The rain was coming down in thick, freezing sheets by the time three black armored SUVs pulled up behind the perimeter fence of Terminal 4 at Boston Harbor.
The harbor was a maze of towering steel shipping containers, flickering yellow floodlights, and the cold, roaring wind blowing off the Atlantic.
This was the heart of Matthew Cole's empire—a multi-million-dollar logistics hub that handled cargo from all over the world.
Penny sat in the middle seat of the lead SUV, wearing a heavy tactical rain jacket Liam had handed her, along with a pair of thick boots three sizes too big.
Matthew sat beside her, pulled an extra pistol from a lockbox under his seat, and checked the action.
"Stay in the vehicle," Matthew instructed her, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The glass is B7 armored. It can stop a high-powered rifle round. Do not unlock the doors for anyone except me or Liam. Do you understand?"
Penny nodded, her heart hammering in her throat. "Matthew... be careful."
Matthew paused, his hand on the door handle. He looked back at her, his dark eyes softening for a microsecond. "I'm always careful, sweetheart."
He opened the door and stepped out into the freezing storm.
Inside the SUV, Penny watched through the rain-streaked, dark-tinted window as Matthew, Liam, and eight heavily armed men vanished into the dark maze of shipping containers.
Ten minutes passed in agonizing silence.
The sound of the rain against the roof was deafening. Penny checked her phone—no service. The signal jammed by the sheer density of the steel containers surrounding them.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed over the sound of the wind.
Then another.
Gunfire.
Penny pressed her face against the window. Flashbulbs of light illuminated the dark gap between two bright blue containers fifty yards away. Shout reverberated through the night air.
Penny’s hands shook as she clutched the edge of the seat. "Come on, Matthew... come on..."
Suddenly, the door handle of the SUV clicked.
Penny gasped, pulling back into the shadows.
The heavy driver's side door swung open. A man in a grease-stained canvas jacket climbed into the front seat, gasping for air, a handgun in his hand.
He wasn't one of Matthew's men.
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He turned around, his eyes locking onto Penny in the back seat. A wicked, yellow-toothed grin spread across his face.
"Well, well," the man rasped, lifting the gun. "Marcus said Cole had a cute little server tucked away in the fleet. Looks like I just found my jackpot."
