Chapter 6 - The Brooklyn Terminal
The quiet thwip of the silenced pistol echoed in the small apartment. Dominic collapsed to the linoleum floor, his eyes going wide and blank as he hit the ground.
The two guards in the hallway lunged forward, but Landon was already moving. He fired twice in rapid succession, dropping both men in the doorway before they could draw their backup weapons.
Clara gasped, covering her mouth with both hands, staring in shock at the bodies lying on her floor.
Landon stepped over the threshold, swiftly checking the hallway. It was empty. He turned back, holstered his weapon, and snatched the leather binder off the kitchen table.
"We have less than two hours," Landon said, grabbing Clara’s coat from the chair and tossing it to her.
"Two hours for what?" Clara asked, her voice shaking as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.
"To stop the transfer at the Brooklyn terminal," Landon said, taking her hand into his broad, firm grip. "And to make sure the men who ordered Santino’s death never take another breath."
"Landon, you can't go to the terminal alone!" Clara protested as he pulled her down the rear fire exit stairs toward the dark alley below. "Dominic said the syndicate is meeting there at midnight! They'll have dozens of armed men!"
"I won't be alone," Landon replied calmly, stepping out into the pouring rain and guiding her toward a non-descript gray sedan parked fifty yards down the street.
He opened the passenger door for her. Sitting in the back seat, wrapped in a warm blanket and holding his plastic toy car, was little Leo, along with Marco—Landon’s oldest and most ruthless lieutenant, who had remained loyal to the true family.
"Uncle Landon!" Leo cried out happily. He looked past Landon and spotted Clara stepping into the front seat. "Star lady!"
Clara’s heart melted despite the chaos around them. She turned around in her seat, giving Leo a warm, gentle smile. "Hey, little guy."
"Marco," Landon said, climbing into the driver's seat and starting the engine with a powerful roar. "Call Paulie and the strike team. Tell them to converge on Pier 42 in Brooklyn. Full tactical gear. No survivors."
Marco nodded grimly, pulling out a encrypted satellite phone. "Understood, boss."
As the car sped through the rain-slicked streets of New York toward the Brooklyn Bridge, Clara looked over at Landon’s sharp side profile. The streetlights flickered across his face, highlighting the hard line of his jaw.
"Who is running the syndicate side of the deal?" Clara asked, her legal mind working through the details despite her fear. "The binder showed payments going to a shell company named Aegis Holdings. Who owns it?"
"Aegis Holdings belongs to Victor Falcone," Landon said coldly, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "Victor was my father's rival thirty years ago. He’s been trying to take over the Brooklyn docks since I was a child."
"If Victor takes those docks tonight," Clara said, leaning closer to look at the documents in Landon's lap, "he controls seventy percent of the incoming cargo for the entire Eastern Seaboard. He won't just ruin your family, Landon—he'll have enough power to buy every politician and judge in the state."
Landon glanced at her, a faint, dangerous smile touching his lips. "Then it's a good thing we have his financial records right here."
He reached over, taking Clara's hand in his while keeping his eyes on the road. His grip was warm, solid, and surprisingly gentle.
"Thank you, Clara," Landon said softly. "For keeping Santino’s trust alive."
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Clara looked down at their joined hands, feeling a wave of warmth wash over her despite the freezing cold night. "He believed in you, Landon. He always said you were stronger than anyone realized."
"Tonight," Landon whispered, "we prove him right."
