She Quit the Mafia Boss’s Life After Seeing His Engagement Ring — Then Learned the Woman Wearing It Was Part of a Plan to Kill Him.

PART 4

Fog rolled across Pier 44 in pale sheets. Dario stood beside the open trunk of his Lincoln while Silas watched the darkness between rows of shipping containers.

The union representatives had not appeared. Two duffel bags of cash sat untouched.

“This is wrong,” Silas muttered.

Dario had already reached the same conclusion. The pier was too quiet. Not empty. Waiting.

“Close the trunk,” Dario ordered. “We’re leaving.”

Silas reached upward. The first shot shattered the Lincoln’s rear light. The second struck Silas in the shoulder. He spun and fell against the bumper.

Dario dragged him behind the armored vehicle as gunfire tore across the wet pavement. Rounds hammered the doors and fractured the outer layer of bullet-resistant glass. Dario drew his pistol, but the shooters were positioned high on the loading platforms. Others advanced between the containers.

It was a kill box designed by professionals.

“Can you move?” Dario shouted.

Silas pressed one hand against his shoulder. Blood spread between his fingers. “I can try.”

Dario looked toward the driver’s door. The moment he exposed himself, the elevated shooters would have a clear angle.

Headlights suddenly appeared at the end of the pier. A black Audi came around the corner at terrifying speed. It crashed through a wooden barricade, skidded sideways, and stopped between the Lincoln and the advancing gunmen.

The passenger door flew open. “Get in!” Wren screamed.

Dario lifted Silas by the back of his coat. Bullets struck the Audi as Dario shoved Silas into the rear seat. The back window shattered, throwing safety glass through the car. Dario dove into the passenger side. Wren slammed the vehicle into reverse before his door closed. She twisted the wheel, spun the Audi around, and accelerated into a narrow lane between stacked containers.

A bullet tore through the side mirror. Another punched into the trunk.

“They’re federal!” Wren shouted.

Dario looked at her. Glass glittered in her hair. A narrow cut marked her cheek, but her eyes remained fixed on the road.

“The Vosses made an immunity deal,” she continued. “The wedding security company belongs to the Federal Organized Crime Bureau. They were going to record everyone at the ceremony.”

“They moved against me early because you found the connection.”

“Yes.”

Dario checked the magazine in his weapon. “South service road. The main gate will be blocked.”

Wren turned off the headlights. The Audi plunged into darkness. She navigated by the pale industrial lights reflecting against the fog. The tires struck broken pavement hard enough to throw Dario against the door.

Behind them, two vehicles entered the lane. “They’re gaining,” Wren said.

“Keep going.”

“The gate is chained.”

“Keep going.”

At nearly seventy miles per hour, the Audi hit the chain-link service gate. Metal screamed across the hood. The hinges tore free. They burst onto an empty industrial road and raced north while the pursuing vehicles struggled through the wreckage.

Ten minutes later, the pier disappeared behind them. Silas lay unconscious in the rear seat, but Dario had wrapped his shoulder tightly enough to slow the bleeding.

Wren’s hands began to shake. The danger was over, and her body finally understood how close they had come to dying.

“Pull over,” Dario said.

“Silas needs a doctor.”

“He needs you to avoid driving us into a concrete divider.”

She pulled beneath an overpass and stopped. For a moment, neither spoke. Wind whistled through the broken rear window.

Dario reached across the console and gently removed a piece of glass caught in Wren’s hair. “You drove an unarmored car into rifle fire.”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“That is not an explanation.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

Dario’s thumb hovered near the cut on her cheek but did not touch it. “You could have died.”

“So could you.”

“I know.”

Wren looked at him. Dario Vane had never admitted fear to anyone. Yet fear was visible now, not for himself but for her.

“You don’t get to order me never to do that again,” she said.

“I know.”

“You don’t get to decide that your life is worth risking and mine isn’t.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t get to kiss me just because we almost died.”

Dario’s gaze fell to her mouth. “I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for five years.”

His honesty stole the next sentence from her. Dario leaned closer, then stopped. He waited. It was the most powerful man in Chicago asking permission without saying the words.

Wren closed the distance. The kiss carried five years of restraint, anger, loyalty, and terrible timing. Her hands gripped his coat. Dario cupped the back of her neck, careful of the glass in her hair.

When they parted, their foreheads remained together. “The engagement is over,” he said.

“Because Sabrina betrayed you?”

“Because it should never have existed.”

“That answer would have mattered more yesterday.”

“I know.”

Wren closed her eyes. Dario was learning two words he should have learned years earlier. She wished they did not feel so much like hope.