24. Cora
24
CORA
T he docks stretch out in front of me, empty and silent.
Too silent.
The wind rolls off the Hudson, thick with the scent of salt and oil, but the usual sounds of the city—horns in the distance, water lapping against the pilings—feel muted.
I grip my gun tighter, my pulse hammering as I scan the area.
Where is he?
Something is very wrong.
Then—movement.
I whirl, gun raised.
Shadows shift. Figures emerge from between the rusted shipping containers, stepping into the dim yellow glow of a flickering dock light.
Too many.
My stomach twists.
They fan out in a wide arc, surrounding me. Big, heavily armed, their expressions gleeful in the way only killers can be.
And then?—
A man steps forward.
Darren.
Smiling.
Fuck.
I don’t move, don’t breathe, just tighten my grip on the gun, forcing my face into something unreadable.
Darren smirks, tilting his head. “Coming to kill me?”
His men chuckle, their guns already drawn as he continues.
“Do that and you’ll never see your sweetheart again.”
My heart pounds so hard I swear they can hear it.
I straighten my shoulders. I don’t let my voice shake. Stand up tall, they told me. Be confident. “Where is he?”
Darren steps closer.
“It eats you up that I’m smarter than you both, doesn’t it?”
My blood turns to ice.
He’s close enough now that I can see the amusement in his dark eyes, the slow, deliberate way he moves—like a man who already knows he’s won.
He gestures lazily to his men. “And I always have a backup plan.”
I calculate my options.
I can fight. I can run. I can?—
“Let me guess.” I force my voice to stay steady. “You want the flash drive?”
Darren’s smirk widens.
“Oh, darling.” His tone is mocking, condescending, dripping with satisfaction. “I want you.”
The words slam into me like a fist.
The gun in my hand suddenly feels useless.
I see it now. The real trap.
Ivan was the bait.
And I walked straight into the trap.
Darren tilts his head. His lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile, and the men behind him chuckle, their amusement sending a sick wave of unease through me.
“You’ve been a pain in my ass, Cora.” He exhales, like I’ve exhausted him. “But lucky for you, I have a buyer who’s very interested in you.”
My stomach churns.
A man to Darren’s left snickers. “The cartel will love her.”
Darren’s grin widens. He’s enjoying this.
Someone grabs me from behind.
A brutal crack of pain explodes across the back of my skull.
My vision flares white—then tilts.
The world spins.
I hit my knees, dizzy, disoriented, my fingers loosening around my gun.
Strong hands wrench it away, dragging me forward.
Darren crouches, gripping my chin in his fingers, forcing me to look at him.
“Tsk.” His voice is mocking, eyes glinting with amusement. “You really thought you were walking out of here with the money and your life?”
I try to lunge, but my body won’t cooperate, my limbs too heavy. Too slow.
Somewhere behind him, I hear a beep. A camera lens whirs, adjusting focus.
Filming.
Darren pulls a phone from his pocket and holds it up, grinning. “Smile for the camera, sweetheart. Your boyfriend’s going to love this. You see, I cloned his number, sent you that message. I know about the code word, kitty kat. Knew about it since I hacked the microphone in his cell. He really should have bought a new one after last time I locked him up.”
He grins at me. “Now I’m going to send him a video of you. He’s going to come running and I’ll have you both where I want you. He’ll die, naturally, but you’ll live, if you keep your legs open for anyone I send your way. That’s how women earn their keep in this world, you see.”
My blood runs cold.
His voice drops, lazy, cruel.
“He could walk away, of course. Leave you to your fate. Think he will? Time for your husband to decide what matters most to him.”