Page 13 of Rough Love

Leo nods as he pulls off the road and into a waterfront shipping yard. The moon reflects off of the water and bathes the area in light. The location is perfect for what we need but all I can see is twenty ways this can go wrong. Hundreds of hiding places, complete darkness between the shipping containers, elevated areas, no one around for miles.

This could either be the perfect spot to take out all of these bastards or the shittiest location for the four of us to die a bloody and brutal death where no one would ever know to find us. Not that anyone would ever come looking. Matteo would pretend to be sad about his dead nephew before happily skipping into the role of the head of the Cosa Nostra, once and for all.

The car comes to a slow and silent stop, hidden behind a stack of containers. Leo turns and gives each of us a quick but meaningful look before focusing on his cell phone. Renz says nothing and offers no reassurances or goodbyes as he opens his door and slides out of the car. Eli, however, leans over the center console and smacks a loud kiss on Leo's cheek before tossing a wink in my direction. Seconds later, he's gone.

The sound of squealing tires fills the otherwise silent area and signals the enemy's arrival. I take a deep breath, clear my head, and step out of the car.

Showtime.

Crouching low, I hold my gun before me, and ease into the night. My feet are silent as I move between shipping containers. The glow from the moon gives me just enough light to see where I'm going but not enough to see anything further than ten feet around me. Keeping close to the ground, I spin in a circle to make sure I'm still alone before pressing my back against one of the large metal boxes. If no one is around to watch my back, it's better to keep it protected.

The night is eerily quiet which tells me that the enemies are operating with the same idea as we are; move in the shadows and wait for someone else to fuck up first.

If these people are from any of the major criminal organizations that we've compiled onto our list of potential threats, then it's likely the men out here tonight are hired hands. None of the major players in the underworld would have trained teams who behaved as the men did when they attacked us back on the street.

No. It was too uncoordinated, too messy. It was out in the open and the fact that we are all unscathed tells me that the unseen enemy that lurks in this shipping yard is both a poor shot and an easy target.

With that thought in mind, I change tactics. Sticking close to the SUV as a backup for Leo, I move from one container to the next, careful to step on the balls of my feet so as to not slide on the gravel-coated dirt. I see no one, hear nothing. The silence unnerves me in a way I am unused to. Where are they and where and the fuck are Renz and Eli?

The sound of a rock rolling across the ground to my left causes me to freeze mid-step. My gun is raised and ready before the thought has even crossed my mind. A boot scuffing the dirt, a heavy step, and then the deep, thick sound of a raspy breath and I fire my weapon, releasing one singular bullet into the darkness. The choked gurgle followed by a heavy thud tells me that I hit my target.

I move to step in the direction of the fallen man to investigate but a sound above me sends me running for cover. My sleek-soled shoe slides along the dusty ground and I momentarily lose traction and stumble. The sound of rocks flying and landing on the soft dirt is equivalent to bombs exploding in the otherwise silence. I know before I've even had a chance to right myself that my location is blown.

Working on pure instinct and adrenaline, I tuck my limbs in close, duck, and roll in an attempt to gain some ground between myself and whoever is clearly above me on one of the containers. His heavy footfalls followed by the unmuted sound of his gun as he releases bullet after bullet alerts everyone that the gunfight has officially begun. No longer are we operating under the stillness of night nor are we hiding the fact that we are all here, waiting for the other to make a move.

Like the scene from a movie, the battle erupts around us. Gunshots ping off the sides of the metal boxes. Shouts, grunts, and screams pierce through the air. All of which are unidentified voices. I don't hear any of my guys, but I have complete and utter confidence in their skills. Renz was trained just as heavily and relentlessly as I was in all things combat. Over the years, we have trained Eli and though he is not quite as skilled as we are, he is borderline insane, and it makes him as much of a threat as us if not more.

Jumping from my crouch to a standing position, I waste no time moving further away from the SUV in an attempt to put some distance between the enemies and Leo. He's like a sitting duck inside of our vehicle and though I know he can protect himself, the thought of him being under attack while we hide in the darkness makes my hackles rise.

Turning on my heel, I aim my Desert Eagle in the direction of the man who has the higher ground and fire off a series of shots blindly. I can't see him, never could, but I know he's there. Since they've given up the element of surprise, none of the men are making an effort to remain hidden or quiet. His heavy breathing tells me he's moving quickly or just out of shape. Either scenario works for me.

One of my shots must hit him because seconds later, he grunts out a sound of irritation and anger but he doesn't stop moving. The containers are close enough in some areas that whoever is on top of them can likely jump from one to the next. It makes hiding and gaining some sort of cover from an attack difficult for me, but not impossible. I need to get up there somehow and surprise the fucker.

No sooner have I had that thought, than does another round of bullets come raining down around me. One hits the metal directly next to my head and I narrowly dodge it.Fuck. That was pure luck. Another bullet hits the ground between my feet. Raising my gun, I focus on the direction his shots are coming from and return fire. My aim hits the mark, and the man tumbles down from his position and lands directly in front of me like some sort of disturbing gift.

He groans in agony, making a ridiculous amount of noise and likely drawing attention to our location. Not that I believe his buddies will come for him, but I need a prisoner and if this dude has half a life left in him, he'll be coming with me.

Stepping forward, I reach his side quickly and take inventory of the situation. The moon shining down upon us provides me with enough light to see the shiny metal of his gun glistening a few inches from his meaty paw. His beady eyes lock on it at the same moment that mine do. He goes for it, but I'm quicker.

My foot shoots out and captures his limb before he can reach the gun. Pressing down on his palm, I bask in the sound of his tiny bones popping and snapping. He opens his mouth to cry out, but again, I'm faster than him and after the way he and his buddies have ruined my already shit night, I'm right pissed off.

Dropping down to a crouch, I keep my heavy foot on his now broken hand and cover his mouth, silencing him. "Ah, ah, ah," I tsk, in a whisper, admonishing him like the idiot he is. "This won't go well for either of us if you make all that racket, now will it?"

The man's eyes narrow in confusion and I can feel his muscles twitching beneath my palm as he tries to shake off my hold. I'd love to stay and play with him, make him truly feel what pain is, but the sound of gunfire slowing tells me that this is almost over and I'm impatient to see who the victor of this battle is. Tossing my Eagle into the air in a practiced move, I catch it by the barrel and slam the hilt into the side of his head, rendering him unconscious within seconds.

I remain in my position, my head cocked to the side as I take in the sounds of the abandoned yard.

Nothing.

I wait a few more moments and when I continue to hear nothing but the water lapping against the dock and the bugs chirping at the moon, I move. Coming to a standing position once more, I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn on the flashlight feature. Using the bright light, I scan the man's body quickly, hoping for some sort of clue as to who he works for. When nothing out of the ordinary is found with my cursory once over, I bend to check over his body more thoroughly.

The man is average. Obnoxiously so. Bald, so no indication of hair color. Medium skin-toned, giving nothing away. Wearing black head to toe. None of his physical or facial features give any indication as to his race, religion, or which syndicate he stands with.

Though our enemy is unknown, we have narrowed the potential suspects down to three; The Bratva, The Irish Mob, and The Diaz Cartel.

While three sounds like a simple number, it is anything but. Those three criminal organizations are the largest and most well-known as well as the most powerful crime syndicates out there today. And given the fact that Francesco Travino was a right bastard, double-handed piece of shit, there is absolutely no telling who he could have pissed off or betrayed in his tenure.

Sighing, I run an agitated hand through my hair. Of course, this couldn't be simple. Upon further inspection, I see that I got the man in his shoulder. Though the wound is bleeding steadily, it is not fatal. At least not anytime soon. We will have time to question him and get the answers we need.

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