CHAPTER 10 THE FAILED AMBUSH #2
The warehouse doors rattled open behind them. Marsh spun, expecting Dario, expecting a trap—but it was just the wind, howling through the gap like a warning.
New rule: when the meeting doesn’t show, you’re the mark.
Carmine tossed something at his feet. A burner phone. "Call her. See how much time you’ve got left."
Marsh didn’t move. The agents were already leaving, their footsteps echoing like a countdown.
He was out of moves. And the ink wasn’t stopping.
Marsh stared at the burner phone on the floor, the plastic casing gleaming dully under the flickering lights.
The wind howled again, slamming the warehouse doors shut with a bang that made the agents flinch.
Scar-brow muttered a curse under his breath, but the woman just adjusted her grip on her holster and kept walking.
Carmine lingered, watching him with that same infuriating smirk. "Tick-tock, Danny boy."
Marsh bent down slowly, fingers closing around the phone. The screen lit up when he flipped it open—no password, just a single contact saved: Evelyn. His thumb hovered over the call button.
A drop of ink slid down his wrist, black and slick. He wiped it against his jacket, but another followed, then another. The cold thread under his skin had reached his ribs, branching out like roots.
"Fuck this," he muttered, and dialed.
The line rang once before Evelyn picked up. No greeting, just her voice, low and measured. "You shouldn’t have gone to the warehouse."
Marsh’s jaw tightened. "Where’s Dario?"
A pause. Then, "Dario’s dead."
The words landed like a gut shot. Marsh barely registered Carmine’s sharp inhale beside him. "Bullshit."
"Check the news in ten minutes," Evelyn said. "They’ll find him in his car. Heart attack, they’ll say. Convenient, right?"
Marsh’s grip on the phone turned white-knuckled. "You did this."
"I didn’t have to." Her sigh crackled through the speaker. "You were supposed to stay put. Now you’re in the open. And they’re coming."
A noise cut through the warehouse—a scrape of metal, too deliberate to be the wind. Marsh’s head snapped up. The agents were gone, but the shadows near the loading docks shifted. Something moved.
Carmine’s smirk vanished. He backed toward the forklift, blade flicking open again. "We gotta go. Now."
Evelyn’s voice turned urgent. "Daniel, listen to me—"
Marsh hung up.
The first shot shattered the overhead light, plunging half the warehouse into darkness. Glass rained down as Marsh dove behind a stack of pallets, Carmine cursing as he scrambled after him. Muzzle flashes lit up the far wall—three, four shooters, maybe more.
Carmine pressed against the pallets, breathing hard. "Told you we were the mark."
Marsh ejected the burner’s battery and tossed the pieces aside. "Shut up and move."
They bolted for the side exit, bullets chewing through the wood behind them. The door was rusted shut, but Marsh shoulder-checked it hard, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his arm. It gave on the second try, swinging open to a narrow alley.
Carmine didn’t wait. He was already sprinting, coat flapping behind him. Marsh followed, the ink burning now, spreading faster.
Evelyn’s warning echoed in his skull.
They’re coming.
The alley stank of rotting garbage and piss. Marsh shoved Evelyn behind him as he scanned for movement. A shadow detached from the wall ahead—too deliberate, too calm.
Carmine Russo stepped into the dim light, rolling his sleeves up past his forearms. "You're making this personal, Marsh." His voice carried the same deadpan amusement he'd use discussing lunch specials. Behind him, three more figures blocked the alley's far end.
Evelyn's breath hitched. Marsh didn't turn, didn't dare take his eyes off Russo. "Vitale send you to clean up his mess?"
Russo's grin showed teeth. "Dario doesn't send me. He suggests. Loudly." He snapped his fingers. The ambush moved like a machine—two men flanking left, one right, guns drawn but not yet raised. Professional. Patient.
Marsh's pulse hammered. They'd been herded. The rusted door behind them groaned as someone kicked it open from inside. Boots scuffed concrete.
"Fuck," Evelyn muttered.
Russo tilted his head. "Yeah."
Marsh lunged left, grabbing Evelyn's wrist. He yanked her sideways into a sprint toward the lone fire escape. A gun barked—wood splintered near his shoulder. Evelyn stumbled but kept pace.
Russo sighed. "You know how this ends."
The fire escape ladder was rusted in place. Marsh boosted Evelyn up, her shoes scraping metal. A bullet whined past his ear. He climbed after her, shoulders burning. Below, Russo lit a cigarette, watching them like a bored stagehand.
Evelyn reached the roof first. Marsh hauled himself over the ledge, rolled, and came up crouching. His ribs ached where he'd hit the door earlier.
"East side," Evelyn panted, pointing. "There's a—"
A figure stepped from behind the roof's HVAC unit. Dario Vitale adjusted his cuffs, unarmed, unbothered. "Daniel."
Marsh spat blood. "You smug bastard."
Vitale's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You took something that wasn't yours."
Evelyn edged backward—straight into Russo, who'd somehow scaled the fire escape silent as a cat. He caught her elbows, his grip casual but unyielding. "Nuh-uh."
Vitale flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve. "Now. Let's discuss reparations."
Marsh's hand twitched toward his waistband.
Russo sighed. "Don't." A red laser dot bloomed on Marsh's chest. Somewhere in the shadows, a sniper exhaled.
Vitale stepped closer. "You have two choices." His voice stayed pleasant. "Walk away with a warning. Or make me send Carmine to your sister's place next."
Marsh froze.
Vitale nodded at Russo, who released Evelyn with a mock bow. "See? Civilized."
Evelyn rubbed her arms. "What do you want?"
Vitale's gaze locked on Marsh. "The ledger. And the name of whoever paid you to steal it."
The rooftop wind carried the distant wail of sirens. Marsh's jaw worked.
Russo checked his watch. "Tick-tock."
New detail: The sniper's laser dot trembled slightly—not from nerves, but the wind. Amateur.
Vitale noticed it too. His mouth thinned.
Marsh saw the opening and moved.
He ducked left just as the laser skittered wide, driving his shoulder into Vitale's ribs. The man grunted, stumbling back, but Marsh was already pivoting—grabbing Evelyn's arm again and shoving her toward the roof's edge. "Go!"
A gunshot cracked. Concrete exploded near Marsh's feet. Russo was shouting now, barking orders, but the wind snatched the words away. Evelyn didn't hesitate. She vaulted the low parapet, landing hard on the adjacent building's roof two feet below. Marsh followed, hitting the gravel with a grunt.
Vitale's voice carried over the chaos, sharp as broken glass. "You just signed her death warrant, Daniel!"
Marsh didn't look back. They sprinted across the next rooftop, dodging vents and frayed electrical wires. Behind them, boots pounded—Russo's crew giving chase. Evelyn skidded to a stop at the far edge, scanning the gap to the next building. Too wide.
"Shit," she hissed.
Marsh grabbed a rusted pipe jutting from the wall. "Swing or climb. Pick one."
Another shot. Closer this time. Evelyn wrapped both hands around the pipe and kicked off, her body arcing over the alley below. Marsh waited half a second before doing the same, his muscles screaming. The pipe groaned under his weight but held.
Evelyn was already moving, kicking open a rooftop access door. Marsh barely cleared the threshold before she slammed it shut behind them, throwing the bolt. Something heavy hit the other side—once, twice—before Russo's muffled curse filtered through.
"Stairs," Evelyn gasped, already descending.
The stairwell reeked of mildew and stale smoke. Marsh counted floors in his head—three down, then an exit to the street. They hit the landing just as the door above burst open.
"Left at the bottom," Evelyn said. "There's a market. Crowds."
Marsh nodded. His side burned where Vitale's ring must've caught him during the shove.
Below, a shadow moved. A man in a cheap suit leaned against the exit door, cleaning his nails with a switchblade. He glanced up as their footsteps echoed.
"Wrong turn," he said, smiling.
Evelyn didn't break stride. She drove her knee into his groin, snatched the knife as he folded, and slashed the fire alarm on the wall. Klaxons blared.
The man in the suit howled, clutching himself. Marsh kicked the exit open, dragging Evelyn into the sudden chaos of the street.
Russo's voice, faint behind them: "You're dead, Marsh! You hear me? Dead!"
They vanished into the crowd.
The fire alarm's shriek still split the air when the first shot cracked against the brick above Evelyn's head.
Marsh yanked her behind a dumpster as glass shattered across the sidewalk.
Across the street, Dario stood framed in the broken window of the surveillance office, his gun raised toward the alley where three of Marsh's men had taken cover.
"Vitale's buying time," Marsh snarled, pressing a hand to his bleeding ribs. "That office has cameras on every inch of this block."
Evelyn twisted to peer around the dumpster. Carmine Russo darted through the chaos, a black duffel slung over his shoulder. He kicked open the office door beside Dario and vanished inside.
"Surveillance tapes," she realized.
Marsh lunged for his ankle holster. "Not happening."
She drove her elbow into his wounded side. He grunted, grip faltering, and she rolled clear as he fired wild. The bullet sparked off the pavement near Carmine's heel, but he was already through the door.
Dario's next shot took one of Marsh's men in the shoulder, spinning him into the street. The remaining two returned fire, forcing Dario back from the window. Evelyn scrambled behind a delivery van, the stink of burnt rubber thick in her nose.
Inside the office, Carmine flipped open the server rack. The hard drives whirred, green lights blinking. He yanked the first tape free, then the second. The third stuck. He cursed, jamming his thumb against the release.
A shadow filled the doorway.
"Drop it," Marsh ordered, gun leveled.