Chapter 3 - The Debt Beneath the Fight
Emergency lights flickered red across the warehouse.
Vincent’s men overturned benches and tables as bullets struck the concrete walls. The men entering through the iron doors wore dark coats and masks, but Cassidy recognized the language they shouted to one another.
They belonged to the syndicate holding Declan.
Cassidy pulled Vincent behind the ring post.
He was conscious but disoriented, blood running from the corner of his mouth. His eyes struggled to focus on the chaos beyond the ropes.
“You knocked me out,” he muttered.
Cassidy crouched beside him.
“This is what you’re thinking about?”
“I remember falling.”
“Congratulations.”
A bullet struck the metal post above them.
Cassidy grabbed Vincent’s shoulder and dragged him lower.
Dominic fired from behind a concrete pillar while the Coletti men pushed the attackers back toward the doors. The warehouse filled with smoke, shouts, and the harsh strobing of emergency lights.
Vincent reached for the weapon beneath the ring apron.
Cassidy caught his wrist.
“You’re seeing double.”
“I can still shoot.”
“You’ll hit your own men.”
Vincent’s expression darkened.
Cassidy ignored it. She crawled toward the corner, located a gap between the hanging canvas and the floor, and watched the attackers’ movement.
“They aren’t here for territory,” she said.
Vincent leaned beside her.
“How do you know?”
“They entered too fast. No one tried to secure the building. They’re looking for someone.”
Vincent followed her gaze.
One masked man was moving toward the ring while the others provided cover.
“He’s looking for you,” Vincent said.
Cassidy saw the silver ring on the man’s hand.
The bald collector from the photograph.
“Yes.”
Vincent’s eyes shifted toward her.
“What did you bring into my warehouse?”
“My brother owes money.”
“To them?”
“Fifty thousand.”
Vincent gave a humorless laugh.
“You risked your life fighting me for fifty thousand dollars?”
“I risked it for my brother.”
The collector reached the ring.
Cassidy waited until his hand gripped the bottom rope. Then she kicked through the gap, striking his wrist. His weapon slid across the floor.
Vincent lunged from behind the post and pulled the man beneath the rope.
Cassidy stripped the mask away.
The collector was older than she had expected, with a scar running from his eyebrow to his jaw.
He smiled at her.
“Your brother talks about you.”
“Where is he?”
“Still breathing.”
Cassidy grabbed his coat.
“Where?”
The man looked at Vincent.
“You should be careful, Coletti. This girl destroys every man who tries to protect her.”
Vincent pressed a forearm against his throat.
“No one said I was protecting her.”
The collector laughed.
“Then let us take her.”
Vincent’s expression became cold.
“You interrupted my fight.”
“You lost your fight.”
Vincent tightened his hold.
Cassidy placed a hand on his arm.
“We need him conscious.”
A final burst of gunfire echoed near the entrance. Dominic and the remaining guards drove the attackers outside. Car engines roared beyond the doors.
The collector struggled beneath Vincent.
Cassidy leaned closer.
“Where is Declan?”
“You should ask him why the debt exists.”
“I know why.”
“No.” The collector smiled. “You know what he told you.”
Before Cassidy could respond, an explosion shook the far side of the building.
The windows shattered.
Flames rose near the storage room.
Dominic shouted for everyone to evacuate.
Vincent pulled the collector upright, but the man drove his head backward into Vincent’s injured face. Vincent stumbled. The collector shoved Cassidy aside and ran toward the smoke.
Cassidy chased him.
“Cassidy!” Elena shouted.
Cassidy ignored her.
The collector disappeared through a side corridor. Cassidy followed into a locker area filled with thickening smoke. Her ribs screamed with every breath, but she continued until she heard a door slam.
She pushed through it and emerged into an alley behind the warehouse.
The collector was climbing into a black sedan.
Cassidy grabbed the rear door before it closed.
The car accelerated.
She ran beside it for three steps, clinging to the handle, before someone caught her waist and pulled her backward.
Cassidy hit the pavement with Vincent beneath her.
The sedan sped toward the waterfront.
She shoved herself upright.
“You let him get away!”
“I kept you from being dragged behind a car.”
“I could have reached him.”
“You could barely breathe.”
Vincent rose unsteadily. Blood streaked his face, and one eye had begun swelling.
Cassidy turned toward the burning warehouse.
“You knew they might come,” he said.
“I knew one man was watching. I didn’t know they would attack.”
“Why was he watching?”
“To make sure I finished the fight.”
Vincent stared at her.
The truth formed slowly.
“They didn’t want you to win the money.”
“They wanted to see whether I still could.”
“Could what?”
Cassidy said nothing.
Vincent stepped closer.
“You’re not an amateur.”
“I never claimed to be.”
“Who are you?”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Cassidy looked toward the road where the sedan had vanished.
“My name is Cassidy Gallagher.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s all you need.”
Vincent laughed once, then winced from the pain in his ribs.
“You enter my club, humiliate my lieutenant, knock me unconscious, and bring gunmen into my gym. I need considerably more.”
“You ordered me to fight.”
“And I’m beginning to think you chose that club because you knew I would.”
Cassidy’s face tightened.
“I had never met you before last night.”
“But you knew who I was.”
“Everyone knows who you are.”
Vincent studied her.
Flames reflected in her amber eyes.
Elena and Dominic emerged from the warehouse with several others. Dominic saw Cassidy standing beside Vincent and immediately reached for her.
“This is her fault.”
Vincent blocked him.
“Don’t.”
“She brought them here.”
“I said don’t.”
Dominic stared at Vincent’s hand against his chest.
His humiliation inside the club had become anger. His humiliation during the fight had transformed it into hatred.
“She dropped you in front of everyone,” Dominic said. “Now you’re defending her?”
Vincent’s voice lowered.
“Walk away, Dom.”
For several seconds, neither man moved.
Then Dominic stepped back.
Fire crews arrived. Vincent’s people disappeared before police vehicles reached the area. Within minutes, Cassidy found herself sitting in the rear seat of a black sedan beside Vincent.
She had not agreed to enter the car.
Two men had made it clear that declining was not an option.
Elena sat in front, twisting around every few seconds to check on Cassidy.
Dominic rode in another vehicle.
Vincent pressed a cloth against his nose.
“The fifty thousand is yours,” he said.
Cassidy looked at him.
“I completed the rounds.”
“You did more than that.”
“I need the money tonight.”
“It will be delivered.”
“Cash.”
“Yes.”
“No trackers. No marked bills.”
Vincent smiled faintly.
“You really do know this business.”
“I know enough to distrust people who carry guns into restaurants.”
“That includes half the city.”
“It includes you.”
The car entered Manhattan and stopped beneath a luxury apartment tower overlooking the river.
Cassidy remained seated.
“I’m not going upstairs.”
“You need a doctor.”
“I need money.”
“You have at least one fractured rib.”
“I’ve fought with worse.”
Vincent looked at Elena.
“Has she?”
Elena hesitated.
Cassidy’s gaze warned her.
Elena sighed.
“She was a professional boxer.”
Vincent slowly turned toward Cassidy.
“How professional?”
Cassidy opened the car door.
Vincent caught it before she could leave.
“How professional?”
“Eleven wins,” Elena said from the front. “Nine knockouts. She held a regional title.”
Cassidy closed her eyes.
“Elena.”
“He’s going to investigate anyway.”
Vincent looked almost delighted despite his injuries.
“A champion waitress.”
“Former champion,” Cassidy corrected.
“Why former?”
She stepped out of the car.
“That’s none of your business.”
Vincent followed her into the lobby.
“It became my business when armed men burned my gym.”
A private physician examined them in Vincent’s apartment. Cassidy had two bruised ribs but no fresh fracture. Vincent had a concussion, a broken nose, and a jaw that would ache for several weeks.
He appeared personally offended by the diagnosis.
“You’re telling people I broke your nose,” Cassidy said.
Vincent sat on the edge of a leather sofa while the doctor packed his medical bag.
“You didn’t.”
“My glove did.”
“The canvas did.”
“You hit the canvas because I hit you.”
Vincent pointed toward the door.
“Leave.”
The doctor departed quickly.
Elena accepted a ride home, but Cassidy remained until the money arrived. Shortly after three in the morning, one of Vincent’s men placed a black case on the table.
Cassidy opened it.
Bundles of cash filled the interior.
She counted enough to verify the amount.
Vincent watched from across the room.
“You won’t reach your brother by paying them.”
“That isn’t your concern.”
“They attacked my property. It is now.”
Cassidy closed the case.
“I’ll handle it.”
“By walking into their territory alone?”
“They asked for money.”
“They also sent gunmen.”
“They wanted to frighten me.”
“They tried to drag you into a car.”
Cassidy’s hand tightened around the case.
Vincent rose.
For the first time since the fight, he was completely serious.
“You don’t know where your brother is. You don’t know why he owes them. And you don’t know why they wanted to test whether you could still fight.”
Cassidy remembered the collector’s words.
Ask him why the debt exists.
“He gambled,” she said.
“Maybe.”
“What else would it be?”
Vincent walked to a cabinet and poured water into a glass.
“Your brother borrowed fifty thousand from a syndicate with access to docks, weapons, and professional soldiers. People like that don’t finance card games unless they expect something besides interest.”
Cassidy stared at him.
“You know them?”
“I know who controls that crew.”
“Then tell me.”
“Anton Volkov.”
The name meant nothing to Cassidy.
Vincent’s expression suggested it should.
“He runs smuggling routes through the Atlantic terminals,” Vincent said. “He’s been trying to take control of my docks for six months.”
Cassidy’s stomach tightened.
“The missed shipment you argued about at the club.”
Vincent nodded.
“The attack was not only about you.”
“You think Declan is involved in your war?”
“I think coincidences are stories people tell themselves when the truth is inconvenient.”
Cassidy lifted the case.
“Then I’ll ask him.”
Vincent stepped between her and the door.
“You’re not going alone.”
“I don’t work for you.”
“You won the bet. Technically, I work for you.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“No.”
His eyes settled on the bruising across her cheek.
“It isn’t.”
Cassidy expected arrogance or calculation. Instead, she saw something unfamiliar in Vincent’s expression.
Concern.
She disliked it more than his threats.
“I can save my brother,” she said.
“Maybe. But someone needs to save you from the belief that you have to do everything alone.”
The words struck a place she kept protected more carefully than her ribs.
Cassidy looked away.
A phone rang inside the case.
She froze.
The money had concealed a small black phone beneath the final stack of bills.
Vincent reached for it.
Cassidy stopped him and answered.
“Declan?”
Her brother’s breathing came through the speaker.
“Cass?”
She closed her eyes.
“I have the money.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Tell me where you are.”
“You shouldn’t have fought him.”
Cassidy looked at Vincent.
“How do you know about the fight?”
Declan began crying.
“They made me arrange it.”
Cassidy’s blood turned cold.
“What did you arrange?”
“The club. The debt. All of it.”
“Why?”
“They needed you close to Coletti.”
Vincent took the phone and activated the speaker.
Declan continued before Cassidy could respond.
“They said you were the only person Vincent wouldn’t see coming.”
A door slammed on the other end.
Declan gasped.
A deeper voice replaced his.
“Bring the money to Pier 40 tomorrow night,” Anton Volkov said. “Bring Vincent Coletti with you, or your brother will not leave alive.”
The call ended.
Cassidy stared at the dark screen.
Vincent looked toward the river.
May you like
Then he smiled without humor.
“It appears,” he said, “your brother’s debt was never about money.”
