CHAPTER ONE
SARAH
Sarah stood on the pier in Boston’s harbor, facing the masked man that rescued her from the Irish mob who looked to kidnap her.
He reached for Sarah, grabbing her forearm with a firm grip. The white ghost skull imprinted on the face of the black fabric made him look menacing–intimidating. “You need to come with me now, Sarah, while there’s still time.”
Sarah wrenched her arm from his hand, then clipped his jaw with her balled fist. Even though he saved her from the Irish mob, he had no place to grab her in such a way. “Like hell I am, Spencer. You might be wearing that mask, but your voice doesn’t lie.”
The glancing blow knocked him back on his heels. The gun lowered and trained at her side. He shook his head, rubbed his jaw, then cut his narrowed eyes up to her.
“I don’t want to harm you, Sarah. I love you,” he said, training his piece at her once more. “But I’ll do whatever is needed to keep you safe, even if you can’t see it. Now let’s go before–”
A muffled report of gunfire sounded from the warehouse next to them.
Sarah ducked, then looked to the open door of the large building built on the pier in Boston’s harbor.
He peered over his shoulder–checking the side entrance for any threats.
Sarah glanced down at Samuel Kinnerk’s pistol, her former captor. The Irish mob boss had been shot by Spencer who stood in disguise before her.
She inched forward, reaching for the weapon.
He doubled down on her. “Please, don’t do that, my love.”
Sarah froze with her arm extended toward the weapon. “Stop saying that. I’m not your love or anything else, you whack job.”
“We’re meant to be together, and one day, you will accept that reality. Now let’s–”
A rush of loud, angry voices echoed through the open door of the warehouse.
Spencer shifted his attention to the growing clamor of shouting and footfalls that sounded from the warehouse–drawing closer to their position. “No, no, no.”
Sarah dropped to the wooden planks in a blink and reached for Samuel’s pistol. She grabbed the sidearm and rolled to her side.
Spencer spun on the heels of his boots and fired at two of Kinnerk’s men who materialized from the warehouse. One went down with a shot to the head–crumbling to the pier, lifeless.
Sarah scrambled to her feet as Spencer and the lone surviving henchman dueled. She kept low and flinched from each gunshot. Sarah peered over her shoulder, catching brief flashes of muzzle fire.
The pistol held firm in her hand. Sarah gathered her footing and found cover behind a pile of weathered and deteriorating pallets. She craned her neck around the edge of the splintered wood and watched the shootout.
Spencer fired at a large red-bearded man until his pistol ran dry. He ejected the spent magazine and slapped in a fresh mag in one fluid motion. He continued firing at the henchman concealed behind a crate to the side of the entrance.
Sarah skimmed over the pier in the opposite direction, finding more stacks of pallets, crates, and other junk that lined the outside of the building. If she kept low and moved quick, she might be able to slip away.
Indecision racked her, though. Mandy, her best friend, was trapped in the middle of the hailstorm of gunfire that both men shelled out. Sarah thought she was alive, but couldn’t tell through the chaos.
Damn it.
Spencer took two direct hits to the chest that sent him stumbling backward. He fell flat on his ass, then onto his back. He laid motionless on the pier–showing no signs of life.
Sarah searched for the last remaining threat. She spotted movement within the crates. Red poked his head out from around the corner, then stood up. He ejected his magazine and dug his hand into his back pants pocket.
Sarah leaned away from the pallets a hair more and stared in the direction of Philip, Samuel’s large goon who draped over Mandy’s body.
The gun.
Sarah squeezed the grip of Samuel’s pistol a hair tighter. She took two quick breaths, then stepped away from her cover.
Red turned her way and aimed his gun.
Sarah squeezed the trigger.
Samuel’s piece clicked empty.
Red opened fire, sending Sarah reeling for cover. Wood splintered with each round that punched the fragile, decaying timber.
“Come out, Mrs. Cage,” Red said, in his thick Irish accent. “You have no place to go.”
Sarah toed the edge of the battered boards, watching Red head her way.
A single shot fired from Spencer, prone on his back.
The bullet struck Red in the ribs and sent him scurrying for cover.
Spencer turned his head, then looked her way. He sat up from the pier with his piece trained at the open doorway. “Sarah.”
Red popped off another round that skimmed past Spencer’s ghost mask.
He flinched, ducked, then returned fire.
Sarah didn’t want to leave Mandy behind, but with an empty gun and armed threats before her, she had no choice but to flea while she could.
She bolted from the pallets in a fit of grief and rage.
Spencer got to his feet–firing as he stood and backed away.
How did he survive that? Is he wearing a bullet-proof vest or something? Sarah thought.
Her feet hammered the pier. She ran as hard and fast as her legs would take her, not daring to look back.
The gunfire lessened the farther she drifted from the battle. She kept the pistol trained ahead, a deterrent to those who stood in her way, and searched for any incoming threats.
Sarah neared the edge of the warehouse. Both hands held the grip taut. She snaked along the stacks of boxes and crates. She toed the blind corner and scoped out the area.
Three SUV’s sat parked at the end of the warehouse. Their doors hung wide open, but she didn’t spot any movement in or around the vehicles. She looked to the other end of the warehouse, and found an armed man with his back to her.
He turned and glanced her way, then leaned back on the heels of his black boots.
She caught a glimpse of the rifle clutched in his gloved hands.
Sarah retreated back behind the cover of the warehouse. She deflated against the steel siding of the building. Her head dangled toward the weathered wooden planks. She wiped the sweat from across her brow, then flicked her hand. Her mind raced, making it hard to focus on escaping.
Come on. Come on, think.
She took in a deep breath, ventured another look, and found the armed man absent from his post.
Sarah crouched, then ran from the cover of the building to the SUV closest to her. Raised voices loomed from the far side of the warehouse. She skirted the open driver’s side door and down the length of the vehicle, stopping at the rear.
The men drew closer to the SUV. Their muttered, angry voices grew louder.
“Where is Samuel Kinnerk?” one of the men asked. His deep, baritone voice boomed like angry thunder and filled with rage. Sarah shuddered. “I want him found and brought to me, now. Anyone else you can silence, but Kinnerk and the two women are to be left unharmed.”
The report of gunfire echoed in the dismal gray sky, then ebbed. She slipped around the bumper, turned, then peered down the long stretch of pier that led to the back entrance of the warehouse.
Spencer vanished from sight. Kinnerk’s men had disappeared as well.
Where is he? Sarah thought, hoping he might’ve caught a bullet that took him down and given her one less problem to contend with.