Chapter 6 - Blood on the Coastline
“Adrienne, my boy,” Aldo wheezed, a manic grin stretching across his wrinkled face. “Put the gun down. We’re family now. Vivien is your wife as of two hours ago. You really want to explain to the Falconee syndicate that you murdered her uncle on your wedding night?”
“You planted a C-4 charge under my reception hall with my mother and my bride inside,” Adrienne replied, stepping out from the shadow of the rocks, his pistol held steady and level. “That isn't a family dispute, Aldo. That’s an execution order.”
“Your father built this empire on blood and betrayal!” Aldo shrieked, his hand shaking slightly as he aimed the revolver. “He promised me a fifty percent stake in the port authority twenty years ago! Instead, he pushed me into the shadows, making me keep his books while he played king! I built this alliance with Vivien just to get close enough to burn it all down. You think the Marquettis are untouchable? The Falconees have been waiting for this exact night for a decade!”
Aldo’s finger began to tighten on the trigger.
He wasn't aiming at Adrienne. He was shifting his aim slightly to the left—straight at Clara, who was crouching behind a boulder with her weapon raised. Aldo recognized the threat she posed; she was the variable he hadn't planned for.
Bang.
A shot rang out, but it wasn't Aldo’s gun.
Clara had pulled the trigger of her suppressed 9mm a split-second faster. The bullet caught Aldo squarely in his right shoulder, spinning him around and sending his heavy revolver clattering across the wet stones into the crashing surf below.
Aldo let out a guttural scream, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he stumbled backward against the iron security door.
Before he could reach into his jacket for a backup blade, Vane lunged forward like a freight train, slamming Aldo into the stone wall with bone-crunching force. The leather duffel bag slipped from Aldo’s shoulder, hitting the ground and spilling packets of waterproof cash and encrypted drives across the wet sand.
Adrienne walked up slowly, standing over the groaning, bleeding traitor. He didn't look down at Aldo. Instead, his grey eyes shifted to Clara, who was lowering her smoking pistol, her hands steady as a rock.
“You didn't hesitate,” Adrienne said quietly.
“In my neighborhood, hesitation is a tombstone,” Clara replied, breathing heavily as the adrenaline began to fade, leaving a hollow ache in her muscles.
Adrienne reached out, his warm fingers wrapping around her wrist to check her pulse. It was a gesture so intimate, so jarringly out of character, that Clara pulled her hand away as if she had been burned.
“Vane,” Adrienne said, never breaking eye contact with Clara. “Take Aldo to the basement vault. Let him think about his retirement plans for the next few days. Then send for a doctor to patch him up. I want him fully conscious when the Falconee elders arrive tomorrow morning to explain why their accountant tried to blow up my wedding.”
May you like
“And the bride?” Vane asked, hauling the whimpering old man up by his good arm.
Adrienne’s jaw tightened. A shadow of profound disgust crossed his face. “Vivien knew about her uncle’s financial audits. Put her in the east guest wing under armed guard. Nobody speaks to her until I say so.”
