Rian: My cock in your mouth.
Ten years of work to get away from this family, to go to school on the other side of the country, to run my own multi-million dollar businesses, and a fucking Irish gangster was texting me to ask if I’d give him a blow job in exchange for not being shut out of my father’s business just because I had a vagina.
“The stevedores,the dockworkers, are all union men,” my father explained to Rian. “But we own the dry docks and the equipment they use to unload the boats.” I trailed behind with my sister, hurt and angry at being shut out of yet another conversation. At the first three stops, I’d tried to shove my way into their conversations, only to find myself on the outside of every meeting, pushed aside with courtesy, but frozen out of every single discussion of substance.
The four men wandered ahead, the love my father had for his business clear in his voice as he explained it to Rian, as Luca and Alexi looked on. Lorenzo waited by the cars, his job to make sure nobody messed with them in case we had to make a quick getaway. In theory, Alexi’s presence provided enough security here in the port, deep in my father’s territory, where the Russos had an uncomplicated relationship with both the authorities and the unions that staffed it.
Fucking useless, I thought to myself. Not a single one of the men noticed Sofia and me dropping further and further behind.
I took my sister’s hand. She was still wide-eyed with wonder, thrilled just to be allowed on the field trip. “I gotta head home, Sofia. The workday for the business that actually makes me money started an hour ago.”
Sofia slanted her lips upward in a rueful smile. “You’re not getting a lot out of this anyway, are you?”
Ginevra: We’re heading back to the car.
Rian didn’t look at his phone. He must not have heard it ping, lost in my father’s lecture about the history of our presence here. I sighed. Papà’s charm and love for the community fascinated me, too. It had grown the Russos from minor players to the force we were today. Too bad I’d allowed myself to be maneuvered out of his orbit today.
Sofia and I wandered back toward the entrance to the port, keeping our conversation quiet as I explained the mechanics of how cargo moved from boats to warehouses. Despite my sister’s ignorance about the family business, she was bright and asked smart questions about how we fit into the process.
The first time I heard a clatter above us, clanging against the metal of the rows of containers that surrounded us, I attributed it to the natural noises of the port, or birds jumping from container to container in search of rodents or trash. The second time, I whipped around, shoving Sofia behind me and against a container. I scanned our surroundings, searching for the source of the noise. The third time, heavy footsteps followed us as we continued through the maze of containers, sending my heart drumming in a worried rhythm.
Fuck.
I drew my gun from the small of my back and motioned for Sofia to press herself against a container, ducking into a row of them so we were partially hidden from view of the main path. Holding my gun in front of me, I backed into the metal wall, well aware the layers of steel that made up the container’s walls were of limited use for blocking bullets.
Letting whomever followed us lure us into the maze of containers was a death sentence. The offices to the right of us, in containers themselves, were a surer bet in terms of safety.
We only had to cross two hundred yards to reach the safety of the car and Lorenzo, but that two hundred yards was a warren of offices and equipment. It would block the line of sight for any shooters, but would also impede me from seeing where they were. I couldn’t see a good way to cover Sofia as we dashed to the car.
Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I’d imagined the sounds on the containers high above our heads. Maybe I was just looking for the drama and excitement of my youth.
As if God had reached down and pressed the mute button, the port silenced—no birds chirping, no hum of machinery, just dead silence as I realized how fucked we were. No, I wasn’t overreacting at all.
Sofia shook in terror as she leaned against the cool metal of the container. I grabbed her hand, hoping to reassure her, to calm her trembling and hide my own fear. My mouth was bone dry and my heart was pounding out of my chest. I slipped off my blazer, wrapped it in a ball, then tossed it out onto the pathway between containers.
The repetitive crack of gunfire filled the air as an automatic weapon blew my designer jacket to pieces.
Whirling, I located the source of the gunfire above us and shot, letting instinct take over my movements.Bang bang bang!When I heard a howl of pain, I knew my aim was true. It had been over ten years since I’d shot at a person, but I hadn’t neglected my hours on the range.
A spray of gunshots slammed into the corner of the container. Bullets lodged in the layers of steel, interrupting my prayers to a god I didn’t believe in that Rian and Luca heard the sound of gunshots.Fuck.We needed to get to a place where we could wait for reinforcements.
The next closest solid object was about twenty yards away — a row of concrete planters. “Sofia,” I whispered. “When I say go, I want you to dash in a straight line as fast as you can toward the office over there, then hide between the concrete planter and the wall, okay? I’ll be right behind you.”
Sofia nodded, her eyes wide and terrified. Thank goodness I told her to change her shoes that morning. On my signal, she took off at a dead run. I did my best to lay down suppressing fire as we dashed toward the concrete wall. Pain flashed in my side as I dove for the safety of the planter, tumbling down beside Sofia and wincing as sharp agony burned through me.
Shit, shit, shit.Gasping for breath, Sofia and I crouched as I pressed my hand to my side, trying to assess the damage. It came away bloody.
Tears streaked down Sofia’s face as she whimpered in terror, but I couldn’t comfort her while bullets slammed into the concrete above us. I’d misjudged where the danger was. I took a deep breath, then popped up, my head and hands peeking above the planter so I could shoot. Silence. I hadn’t hit anything. By the time I’d ducked back down, the shooter was firing again.
Concrete shattered and rained down on our heads. The shooter knew exactly where we were. We could crawl further down the planters, but we’d just be trapping ourselves in a blind alley. The only other option to move was back toward the containers.
Fuck.
We were only marginally better off than before, and if they kept shattering the concrete, we’d be sitting ducks when it was gone.
Suddenly, gunfire filled the air from all directions. I dove toward Sofia, pushing her head to the ground and covering her as concrete exploded over us. We listened to the shouts of surprise and pain as we shuddered in fear, followed by the sound of bodies thudding to the ground. Neither of us moved.
“Ginevra?” Rian called out. “It’s clear.”