Chapter 4 - fire at pier 42
Dominic didn’t look back at Vivienne. "Marco, lock her in the guest suite on the third floor. Take her phone. Post two guards at the door."
"You can't hold me here!" Vivienne shouted as Marco seized her arm. "Dominic! If those warehouse doors open, you're finished!"
Dominic ignored her screams as Marco dragged her away, leaving a faint trail of red wine across the polished parquet.
Ten minutes later, Dominic’s black armored SUV was tearing through the industrial rain of the Brooklyn waterfront. Eleanor sat in the passenger seat beside him, refusing to stay behind at the mansion despite Dominic’s objections.
"You should be resting, Ma," Dominic said, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.
"If Warehouse 7 is breached, rest won't save any of us," Eleanor replied, staring straight through the rain-streaked windshield. "Your father didn't keep cargo in that warehouse, Dominic. He kept secrets."
They pulled up to Pier 42. Smoke billowed from the roof of the corrugated steel structure, glowing orange against the low storm clouds. Four armed Ravello guards were already on site, weapons drawn, surrounding the shattered steel doors.
Dominic stepped out into the rain. The smell of burning rubber and diesel fuel choked the air.
"Report," Dominic commanded.
The shift captain jogged over, drenched in rain. "Three guys in tactical gear, Boss. Professional. They used thermite on the electronic vault locks. They weren't looking for contraband or cash. They went straight for the basement archive."
"Did they take anything?" Dominic asked.
"We engaged them. One of them took a round to the leg, and they fled by speedboat toward the harbor channel. But they dropped this by the access hatch."
The captain handed Dominic a heavy brass keycard, scorched around the edges.
Embossed on the plastic face of the card was a gold seal. It didn't belong to any rival mafia family.
It belonged to the Office of the District Attorney.
Dominic stared at the card. "Vivienne isn't working with another family. She’s feeding our books to the state."
"No," Eleanor said quietly from beneath her umbrella. "She isn't feeding them to the state, Dominic. The District Attorney is her brother."
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Dominic turned around slowly. "What did you say?"
"Vivienne’s maiden name was Miller," Eleanor said, her voice shaking with old grief. "She was adopted. The man running the organized crime task force in this city isn't an enemy of Vivienne. He is her blood."
