Chapter 6 - Blood on the Coastal Highway
We breached the yacht’s mahogany salon.
Henri De Winter was kneeling on the carpet, trying to stuff bearer bonds into an
aluminum briefcase.
Camille sat in the corner, clutching her bleeding hand, sobbing hysterically.
Two remaining guards raised their weapons.
I fired the shotgun into the floorboards at their feet.
The blast tore through the teak flooring, knocking them off balance.
Dominic closed the distance like a shadow.
Two clean, blinding strikes disarmed both men and sent them crashing through the
glass patio doors.
Dominic walked toward Henri.
The old cartel don raised his hands, trembling.
“Dominic... wait... we have forty million in offshore accounts... we can share
the shipping lines!”
Dominic picked up the aluminum briefcase and hurled it through the shattered
window into the sea.
“You shot down a transport carrying twenty-two French soldiers, Henri.”
“It was business!” Henri wept.
“Gabriel was my brother,” Dominic whispered.
He drove his combat blade straight through Henri’s shoulder, pinning him to the
teak wall.
Henri shrieked in agony.
Dominic’s satellite phone buzzed.
He answered on speaker.
“Vanguard Commander reporting. Claire Laurent is secure aboard our transport.
The hostile kidnapping team has been neutralized. She is unharmed.”
My knees gave out.
I sank onto the salon sofa, weeping in pure, unadulterated relief.
Claire was safe.
My baby sister was breathing.
Dominic turned toward Camille.
She shrank against the bar, trembling.
“Dominic... please... I loved you...”
“You wanted my throne, Camille,” Dominic said coldly.
“Now you get a federal holding cell.”
In the distance, the sirens of the French Maritime Gendarmerie tore through the
storm.
May you like
Three naval patrol boats surrounded the crippled yacht.
Justice had arrived on the water.
