Chapter 9 - The Docks at Dawn
The storm had passed by the time the armored SUV burst out of the logging trail, merging onto the deserted coastal highway leading toward the Industrial District of Seattle.
Sky was turning a bruised shade of purple as dawn approached over the Puget Sound.
I sat in the back seat, my hands holding the 9mm pistol Adrian had given me, my mind racing faster than the engine beneath us.
"Eli," I called out to the front seat. "How many men does Julian have at Pier 42?"
"Four, maybe five," Eli replied, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. "Just a skeleton crew to watch my sister until Julian called to confirm Adrian was dead."
"And Julian's main force is at the safehouse with Adrian right now?"
"Yes, Mrs. Vale."
I looked out the window at the distant cranes of the shipping port rising against the morning sky.
If Adrian survived the siege at the cabin, his first move would be to come to Pier 42 to fulfill his promise to Eli. But if Julian realized the safehouse attack had failed, he would head straight to the docks to eliminate his hostages and flee the country.
"We aren't waiting for Adrian," I declared firmly.
Eli flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror in shock. "Mrs. Vale, Mr. Vale specifically ordered me to take you to a safe house in Tacoma!"
"I spent five years waiting for Adrian to solve every problem in my life while I sat silently in a locked room," I said, racking the slide of the pistol, feeling the cold steel click into place. "Not today. We're going to Pier 42. We're getting your sister out before Julian gets there."
Eli stared at me through the mirror for three long seconds. In my eyes, he no longer saw the quiet, frail art curator who painted water lilies in the estate garden. He saw the wife of Adrian Vale.
"Yes, Mrs. Vale," Eli said, stomping his foot down flat on the accelerator.
Twenty minutes later, the SUV slid quietly into the shadows between two massive rust-red shipping containers at Pier 42. The port was quiet, the cold wind blowing off the bay carrying the smell of salt water and diesel fuel.
Eli pulled a suppressed pistol from beneath his seat. "Container 4082. Near the water edge."
We moved swiftly through the maze of steel boxes, keeping to the shadows. My heart was pounding against my ribs, but my hands were completely steady.
Outside Container 4082, two armed guards in dark coats were standing near a burning oil drum, drinking coffee.
"I'll take the left," Eli whispered.
Before Eli could move, a dark figure stepped out from behind the adjacent container.
A gun flashed twice in the dim dawn light.
Pop! Pop!
Both guards collapsed silently into the wet gravel.
My breath caught in my throat as the tall figure turned toward us, pulling off his damp wool cap.
It wasn't Julian.
It was Nolan Price—bleeding from a graze on his cheek, his suit coat torn, holding a heavy tactical shotgun.
"Nolan!" I gasped, stepping out from behind the steel crate.
"Mrs. Vale," Nolan bowed his head slightly, as if we were meeting in the foyer of the estate rather than a blood-stained shipping dock. "The Boss figured you wouldn't go to Tacoma. He sent me ahead via speedboat to secure the pier."
"Adrian?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Is he... is he alive?"
Nolan smiled—a rare, genuine expression on his battle-hardened face. "The Boss cleared the cabin in fifteen minutes, Mrs. Vale. Julian's strike team didn't know what hit them."
Heavy footsteps echoed down the gravel aisle behind us.
I turned around.
Adrian Vale walked out of the morning mist. His shirt was torn, his knuckles bruised, blood splattered across his cheek, but his posture was regal, absolute, and terrifyingly alive. Behind him walked Carter Reeve, carrying a tactical rifle.
Eli sprinted past us, unlocking the shipping container, pulling his crying, unharmed younger sister into a fierce embrace.
Adrian ignored them all. His dark eyes locked onto mine, scanning every inch of my body to ensure I was unhurt.
He walked over to me, stopping just inches away, his heavy breathing misting in the cold sea air.
"You didn't go to Tacoma," he said softly.
"I told you," I replied, looking up into his dark, fierce eyes. "I'm done hiding in rooms you locked for me."
Adrian looked at me for a long, breathtaking moment. Then, slowly, a look of profound, overwhelming pride filled his face. He reached out, his big, calloused hand wrapping around the back of my neck, pulling me into him, kissing me with a fierce, possessive tenderness that wiped away five years of silence.
"Where is Julian?" I asked when he finally pulled back.
Adrian's eyes darkened slightly, looking toward the end of the pier where a sleek black speedboat was tied to the wooden pilings.
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Standing on the deck of the boat, handcuffed to the iron railing, was Julian Vale.
"He's going on a long voyage," Adrian said coldly. "To a facility in South America where he will never see the sun, and never touch a computer keyboard again."
