Chapter 9 - The Tarmac Showdown
The rain hit Evelyn like a wall of ice the moment her boots touched the slick pavement of the runway. She pulled her dark jacket tight around her shoulders, keeping close to the massive rear tire of the SUV as Marcus and three Valtieri operatives moved with ruthless, silent precision toward the idling jet.
Across the tarmac, Judge Arthur Sterling stood at the open loading ramp of the private aircraft, frantically clutching a heavy metal briefcase to his chest. His chartered pilot was shouting over the roar of the jet engines, gesturing frantically toward the darkened control tower.
“Hey! What’s wrong with the lights? We need to take off now!” the pilot yelled.
Before Sterling could reply, two of his armed guards spun around as Marcus stepped out of the blinding rain, his weapon drawn and steady.
“Federal marshals! Drop your weapons!” Marcus barked, though there was nothing federal about the cold efficiency in his voice.
The guards hesitated for a split second—long enough for Dominic to materialize from the shadows behind them. With two swift, calculated movements, Dominic disarmed both men, dropping them to the wet concrete before they could even draw their sidearms.
Judge Sterling froze, his face turning the color of chalk as he stared down the barrel of Dominic’s pistol.
“Valtieri...” Sterling choked out, trembling so violently he dropped his heavy metal briefcase. It popped open upon impact, spilling stacks of classified documents, flash drives, and digital hard drives across the rain-soaked asphalt.
Evelyn jogged up to the open briefcase, dropping to her knees right beside the puddle of water. Ignoring the rain soaking through her clothes, she began rapidly sorting through the drives.
“Is it all here?” Dominic asked, keeping his weapon trained on the terrified judge.
“Patient logs, financial wire transfers, and internal memos,” Evelyn said, her eyes scanning a waterproof label on one of the drives. “Yes. This is the complete master archive.”
Judge Sterling looked frantically at Dominic, then toward Evelyn. “Listen to me! You can't do this! I’m a sitting judge! I can make all your legal troubles disappear—tax evasion, freight violations, anything! Just let me get on that plane!”
Dominic stepped closer, his dark overcoat billowing in the jet wash. He lowered his weapon slowly, but the look in his eyes was far more terrifying than any gun.
“Judge Sterling,” Dominic said, his voice cutting cleanly through the scream of the turbine engines. “You spent twenty years trading gavels for bribes, signing off on the deaths of innocent people while sitting comfortably in your oak-paneled chambers.”
“Please—”
“You’re not getting on a plane to the Caymans,” Dominic interrupted coldly. “You’re getting into the back of my SUV. And by morning, federal prosecutors are going to have every single file you tried to smuggle out of the country.”
Marcus and another operative hauled the screaming, flailing judge off the tarmac, shoving him roughly into the backseat of the trailing vehicle.
As the jet taxied back to the hangar with its engines whining down to a miserable idle, Evelyn stood up from the pavement, clutching the metal briefcase tightly against her chest. Water dripped from her hair, but she was smiling—a fierce, radiant smile born of absolute victory.
Dominic walked over to her, wiping the rain from his forehead. He looked down at the briefcase, then up at her face.
“You’re entirely reckless, Miss Whitmore,” Dominic said, though there was a distinct note of admiration in his voice.
“I learned it from the best,” Evelyn replied smoothly.
May you like
He reached out, gently taking the briefcase from her hands and tossing it to Marcus. Then, without warning, he pulled her close against his chest, shielding her from the relentless rain.
“Let’s go home,” Dominic whispered against her hair.
